Grand Theft Auto: South Harroline
by Stelm
Summary: All Kareem wanted to do was run away from the high risk and complicated world of the Liberty City Costra Nostra. He figured the best place to do that in was the simple southeastern state he grew up in. To his distress the city had changed alot since he was a kid. He soon learned that he had to make his own in the criminal underworld. Based off cities in South Carolina and Georgia
1. When Shit Hits the Fan it Blows

**STELM: **_**Ello ladies, gentlemen, and other. I've been thinking of doing a GTA fan fiction for a long while. I've decided to make a story about a place I know home. South Harroline is based off aspects of both urban, suburban, inner city, and rural life in both Georgia and South Carolina. I know it sounds like a lot but I can fit all those southern styles in one state easy (maybe not so easy but I'll sure as hell try). I'll also be putting in a nice playlist dominated by a lot of people who are real hot down here. **_

_**I'm telling the story from an African American characters point of view. CJ in San Andreas did an excellent Job with the ghetto struggle but it was too Westside. Even though some would argue that every hood's the same (Ice Cube) Eastside hoods are a little different. Plus this one is a recent version of the hood so….yah. PM if some of the slang doesn't make sense. Rated M for language, drug use, sexual content, passion fruit, gore, Hakuna matata, awesomeness, the truth, communism, anti-communism, money bags, Rick Ross puns, pacifist ideals, and intense violence.**_

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**Chapter 1: When Shit Hits the Fan it Blows**

_In the Iconic Rubin Swinger Basketball Court in Liberty City a young African American man with high hopes plays a pickup game of four on four… _

"Hey Konard! Pass the ball." One of the guys on my team yelled as he got open for a three.

I drove to basket and set my plant foot down for a floater drawing the defense further away from my open man. Just as soon as most of the opposing team began to crowd the paint I kicked it out. The guy open on the three point line made the shot easy, I expected nothing less.

We were up by 3 and were going to 26. That last three (or two by street basketball rules) made it 25 I knew it was going to be me who was going to shoot the last shot of the game. I had to be quick, after this I had business to take care of.

I was told earlier today to meet a Messina capo named Vince Terreli. I had seen him plenty times before. You could say I was a well entwined associate of the Messina family. I knew all the basics of the Costa Nostra. Most of it was just pizza faces attempting to take young guys out of poverty and into riches. Kind of like that Geechee Mafia Family down south in South Harroline. The difference was that the Mafia I worked with only accepted Italians. Well in that way they weren't different, they took care of their own.

All this thinking got my head out of the game, so I got my head back in the game. We were on defense and the other team's top scorer was driving to the basket. I had to capitalize on this defensive opportunity. That dynamic thought went through my head as I ran forward, my ProLap shoes practically allowing me to fly on upward. I roared as I felt my palm slam down on the ball. The adrenaline coursed through my body and I could just feel that I was in control.

It was like the feeling Brucie on Alderny Shore talked about. When you can feel every angry feeling just explode into dominance. So when I saw the ball bounce towards our goal I capitalized. I ran to it long before half of the basketball players could even react. I could feel my speed pick up and I told myself to slow down but my legs just wouldn't listen. It wouldn't help to do a simple layup. I had to go all the way. So as I got close to the goal I jumped as high as I could, brought the basketball to the base of my neck then slammed it down. I could hear screams of, "Oh shit!" and "Damn!" from the small crowd that was probably waiting on the court to clear up so they could play.

As I hung on the goal I could feel the sweat all over my body. I let go of the goal let out some victory shouts. Shaking hands with my fellow pickup b ball players I felt the rush of winning flow freely throughout my body. I then went to collect my money, to the distress of the opposing team. I was collecting the last of my money when a loud shot rang out. I cursed out loud and before I knew it I saw a white Cavalcade FXT come crashing through the gates of the park and into random pedestrians on the court, including me. I ran for the gun in my gym bag but I was too late. The truck hit me full force.

I opened my eyes and came to the conclusion I had blacked out at impact. I started to get myself up off the ground but a foreboding shadow casted over me. I literally shit my pants when I saw who it was. My first thoughts were the headlines on the news about an African American hitman who worked for Arciere, the up and coming Liberty City Mafia family. My jealousy knew no bounds as I remembered the man from the I'm Rich episode with January Natasha Vasquez, he was the guy who had stood protectively behind her, right in front of their mansion and 14 sports cars. A number they chose to maintain because it was how old January Natasha Vasquez was when she lost her virginity. He had taken out members of the Pavano and Messina family. My mind froze when I realized that I was associated with them pizza faced bastards. I was wondering how the fuck I was going to get myself out of this situation when the notorious hit man nicknamed Shotgun Kareem spoke.

"You Konard?" The gunman asked; his deep voice meaningful and moving. I nodded my head feebly hoping not to anger the killer.

He had walked around to face me by this time and I could feel the tears start to form. I would try my best to hold them in. Maybe the killer would spare my life and make me one of his accomplices. That would be terrific. This guy was the best of the best, and then he bested those people! I didn't have too much of a mind to think about it though. The shotgun he had currently pointed at me was an all black model, and I could tell it was made in the past year or two. How he got his hands on these types of weapons I never knew.

"You know a woman by the name of Madam Valvona?" The killer asked with a snicker. For a minute I thought he was going to blast my brains out.

"Yes." I said urgently and surely. Knowing I had answered his question right. I swore I was going to get out of this business. Maybe visit my mom in San Andreas. Yeah. That's what I was going to do. I only went to that whorehouse once. I heard it was high class. That wasn't anything to get shot over. Ok, I may have got a little out of hand and roughed up the girls but she was still alive, or at least I think she was when I ran out the door.

"Well she sends her regards. Asshole!" The murderer said followed by a bright flash, a boom, and a warm sensation that went through my body. However the feeling was swiftly replaced by the coldness of what I knew had to be the unforgiving hands of death. I mustered the energy to look at my wound. Right in my belly. It was the last thing I saw before I let my head rest of the concrete.

_On the other side of the barrel…_

"That's what happens when you fuck with Cosa Nostra business, somebody always gets killed." I said aloud. The park had cleared out by now and knowing the amount of calls that were made by this area to the police department I knew it would be a while before I would have to worry about anything. I do have to say I made quite a mess.

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My names Kareem Christian Louston. I come from South Harroline. I came up here when my mom passed away looking for work. I started out working as a strip club security guard; my large build made it an easy choice. The club shut down after a shooting and I ended up having to sell crack to pay the rent. After going through a year of being addicted to the shit I quit and started working for a grocery store owned by a man named Luigi. One day somebody tried to rob the place and I stopped them. It was a simple action but the owner made it feel like I had just touched the moon off vertical.

After a while the grocer owner revealed that he was part of a secret organization known by the media as the Mafia. From there the scrawny man had me doing all sort of odd jobs. From burning down the garages of Cos Nostra Capos to popping the air out of a drug mover's vehicle's tire, he had me doing it all.

As our friendship budded he began to introduce me to different members of the growing Arciere Family. I started out doing assaults, then kidnapping, and finally I got down to the dirty world of a hitman. My executions with the shotgun made me earn the name SK. Shotgun Kareem. All that and I was only 25.

Right now I just wanted to get something to eat. Maybe I would stop by Vinewood Bar & Grill near Star Junction. I always loved to visit that place. I had a good deal with a yellow bone waitress there. There had been multiple times when I'd pick her up from work and take her home with me. Good times…

My thoughts of peace were stopped as I started to reach for the handle of the truck I came in. I hadn't opened the door before a couple dozen rounds ruined the trucks glass and interior. I ducked behind my automobile evading the bullet storm. I peeked out of the mafia funded makeshift cover and saw a group of three men dressed in overcoats firing at me. I got back to safety, opened the back door, and grabbed a Molotov cocktail that lay forever useful on the backseat floor. I took a lighter out of my sports coat's pocket and lit the ragged white rag of the cocktail. I waited until I heard a used clip hit the ground from the other side of the street and I chucked the burning bottle at the general direction of the men.

As I poked my head out of cover I thanked God for my success. Two of the three suited men were burning, screaming and yelling. The luckier part of the overcoat trio covered man was trying to save his comrade giving me a perfect chance to pick up my shotgun that I had laid on the court earlier and fire at him, the barrel of my shotgun only a half foot above my truck's hood. It took me three shots but the man went down like we will all have to someday and I rushed to investigate before the police came rushing down. I wouldn't be surprised if they brought N.O.O.S.E. with them. I ravaged through the unburned man's jackets finding a total of three hundred dollars, a phone, an AK-47, and a key ring with a smart key. I thanked God once again for his constant blessing as I pressed the red button on the electronic key. The car was revealed to be only a few seconds away. I sprinted over to a black luxury four door car that you usually only saw in Star Junction and pressed the unlock button so I could slide into the extremely comfortable car. I checked to see if anybody looked to be trailing me and as I saw nobody I hit the ignition As I sped off I looked at my rearview to see that my truck was on fire. Another blessing from above, the less evidence the better.

I looked through the man's MyPhone. I saw the last call was recent. I knew that had to be had to be the person who set this all up. I would make sure this guy knew how his lackey was doing. So I tapped the space laid out for recall. I put the phone on my shoulder and pressed the touch screen to my roughly bearded cheek.

"Mario?" A surprised voice asked on the phone.

"No its. SK. Shotgun Kareem. Remember the name because I'm coming for your ass the next time I see you. Your guys are dead. Now you look on the news and tell me who won. You see me you run. You don't want to see me. Your whole crew dressing up trying to be me. How the fuck yall gonna be a mob when I'm on my job I'm killing for my money. I am the mother fucking mob! No room for guinea cocksuckers like you." I said angrily throwing the MYphone out the window. It ended up hitting a jogger. Damn I hated joggers.

As I rode on to my house in Alderny I couldn't stand the subtlety of the classical music that was now on. I needed something to get me pumped! So I turned it to the Beat 102.7. Rick Ross So Sophisticated featuring Meek Mills was playing, exactly what I needed.

_A week later in SK's Mansion in Westdyke…_

It was a rainy day. The type of day extended into night. The storm roared outside, the flashes of lightning shedding light on my lavish lifestyle. I lay relaxed and warm next to my current girlfriend, a woman by the name of January Natasha Vasquez.

We had met when the Arciere Family decided to get some non-Italian connections. The first of those connections were the Vasquez Family. The family controlled the moving of all the well cut cocaine. A few months of ass kissing and the Arciere Family had a friend. Almost in sync with the two crime families Jan and I had a number of intimate encounters. A few weeks after the criminal connection was made we started to date regularly. We even made a cameo appearance as a couple on the ongoing TV show, I'm Rich. The woman tried to hide a video camera in our bedroom a few times before we hit the sack but I always found it and disposed it. Couldn't have anybody knowing how I made my coffee.

I let my nose intake the smells of recent sex; a mixture of sweat, perfume, and some third world country's cotton. I had my arms around her waist and I wanted to wake her up for another round but a sound stopped me.

I could hardly hear it but I knew it was there. Something that wasn't supposed to be. I stopped breathing for 7 seconds and could only hear the softness of Jan's breathing. Then I heard the sounds again. I wasn't paranoid but I knew that the possibility of assassination was possible. I never had an attempt made on my life, well at least not in my own home, well at least not at this home. I could just imagine myself snapping an assailant's neck. I could practically feel the adrenaline building up as I thought of going out like Donnny Fortuna or maybe even Queen Basit in that bank robbing movie.

Of course all those people died but not me. I had protection. I could have hopped out my bed and started firing but no. I couldn't let them know that I was awake. They had to feel like they had the advantage of surprise over me. The excitement of a shootout in my own home pumped blood all through my body, which included the area of my male anatomy that was now laying erect on Jan's underside.

"I have an interview tomorrow. Maybe another time I'll..." Jan started softly but I quickly put my fingers up to her lips stopping her from continuing. I figured now was as good a time as ever. I let the lightning flash one more good time before I rolled out of my king sized bed (to the anguish of my recent bullet wounds) and slid an armored case out from under the mattress. A few seconds of button pressing and the suitcase was open. I swiftly withdrew a skin tight black bulletproof body suit. I got it on no problem and soon afterwards put on my silk house coat. Almost ready I pulled out a combat pistol from my nightstand and slipped on some Backside high-tops. Hell if I was going to get shot down I might as well do it in style and function.

As I walked to the door I saw Jan sneak into my closet. A place she had been familiar to staying when I was going out with this psycho bitch named Kiki Jenkins. After getting close to my closed bedroom door I almost laughed to myself. What if it was only the waiter from the Vinewood Bar & Grill, Tia? I do barely remember giving her the keys to my place on one drunk drive home. That would be silly wouldn't it? But I had to be alert anyway. So I pushed the door open quietly and flicked on the hall way lights.

As the hallway illuminated I saw a slinky Italian man in all black carrying a M4A1. The man yelled at me, "Congolare! Congolare!" I was seconds ahead of him and retreated to cover inside the master bedroom. The bullets riddle the dark blue door that blended so well with the white and gray room. It was a shame that I was going to have to hire somebody to clean the soon-to-be blood stains off the hallway walls, I thought as I remained in cover waiting for the man to reload. Before he could one of my glass windows shattered and I heard three loud beeps. Half a second later an explosion rocked the room throwing me out it and leaving me sprawled out in the hallway. I would have been dead then and there if my assailant wasn't so damn skinny. The Italian had dropped his gun in the explosion and I capitalized with ruthless efficiency blasting the man in the face, blood and grey matter spraying behind him. I raised my head in victory but a succession of three more explosions made me snap back into reality. My house was being burned down! I disregarded the screams back in my bedroom; I knew it was unlikely for any of us to survive if I went in to save her.

Knowing that the rest of the Italian's crew would be coming soon I ran to pick up the dead Italian's weapon gun and discarded my current one. I checked the carbine gun for any malfunctions and found none so I continued my silk caped crusade further down the hall way. As I turned the corner I saw a group of three all black assailants run down the hall. I mowed them down within seconds. They barely knew what hit them. I jumped over their bodies just to see a few more turn into the hallway out of the opening that lead to the stairs. They got one look at me and could barely begin to fire their matching high powered M4 guns at me before I hit one of their guys down. I took the rest down after a few poor misses on their part. I reloaded my weapon via the trio I just killed and found a grenade as I did.

After taking a few seconds break I poked my head from the cover that the side of the stairwell opening provided. I could see that my front door broken into and a group of assailants were guarding it, terrific. As soon as they saw me they began shooting up the painting of some French general that was hung for display as the first thing you saw when you walked through the door. I just stood there around the corner from those Italian devils, my heart pumping faster and faster each second. I sat the carbine down and pulled the grenade out of my house coat pocket, cooking it for a second before chucking it towards where I figured the door was.

The explosion that I knew would occur would only serve as a distraction while I made a beeline for the glass window that was set at the end of the hallway I took cover in. To my surprise I heard a bedlam of screams and I began my sprint blind firing at the door as I ran. One lucky enemy bullet managed to skin me on back leaving me staggering as I continued to head towards the window. I shot at the window to loosen it up and almost exactly on cue a lone assailant turned the corner of the hallway that cut off the one that I was running through. He fired his weapon before I could and hit my carbine causing it to fall apart. I discarded it quickly, sprinting even faster than I ever did before as he reloaded and I tackled the man.

I put the man in a headlock and he tired his hardest to grab his weapon but it was too late I used all my force and the man's neck let out a sharp snapping sound. I let go running, hearing my usually silent air conditioning vent make strange noises. Damn they were going to blow my whole place sky high! I screamed in anguish as I jumped out of the broken window.

I looked down to see I was about to land on my garage house. The pain of impact sent shocks through my body and as I got up I saw that I made quite a big dent. Didn't matter, I probably wasn't ever coming back. I jumped down and opened my garage door via electronic code and quickly got into my Comet coupe. I put the car on drive and the car practically jumped out of the garage not that anybody was on the streets except onlookers, whom I tried my best to not run over, unsuccessfully.

As I drove down Owl Creek Ave. I looked at my rearview and saw the obvious tampering of the air conditioning come into effect. The house collapsed with one final crescendo of fire. Years of crime and sin money and it was gone in mere minutes. All I had now was the limited amount of money I had on my Fleeca. Damn me and my obsession for clean cut dollar bills over digital currency.

_An hour and a half later in an apartment building near Middle Park…._

I ringed the doorbell twice. I swore if this guy wasn't home I was going to murder somebody. As if speaking to the door I exclaimed "Open the door! Open the fuck up!"

The Italian opened the door as if he had just heard my voice from the other side of the door and decided to not be a douche bag. He looked like shit. I could tell he had just finished snorting a line of coke and had just barely came back to his senses. I had a good eye for things like that.

**"**What were you doing SK? B-barbecuing in y-your b-bedroom?" The cokehead asked amused somehow not having the ability to stop grooming himself with his hands.

"Yah, that's what happened. Can I come in?" I asked hoping not to be heard by anybody who had heard me try to rush the Italian to the door.

"Oh…yes. Of course SK. Anything for a friend of m-mines. W-would you care for a drink?" The cokehead asked letting me into his condo. I had only been to Luigi's house three times and those times were far behind. The mob adviser/contractor had a strange sense of style and his home showed that. The last time I saw him here the house had a homely green and red color coordination. Now colors were all over the place. His walls were all different colors. None of them being black or brown. His living room couches were tiger striped green and he had a large flat screen TV set up.

"Let me show you to my d-dining room." The druggie said directing me to a small part of the condo where the floor tiles were pink and there was a small marble circle table proving how few people normally dined at his house. I sat down in one of the white leather seats and Luigi poured me a glass of wine. In any normal occasion I would have refused but I was too irritated to protest.

"What the fuck happened to your place Luigi? Looks like you hired your interior decorator from San Fierro." I said annoyed by the colors that my eyes had no choice not to look it at, times the fact that Luigi himself had on some slacks and a wrinkled green dress shirt, with a pink tie. He probably went out to some electro club or something. Crack heads always liked that type of music; I knew the feeling best, I was like him once. Accept I didn't live in some fancy condo.

"You're saying you don't like it?" Luigi asked slumping his shoulders down. Hey, he probably paid a lot of money for it. I guess I would go easy on him. Plus I couldn't stand the sight of a grown ass man crying. On top of that I really didn't want to go over style when my house was all black, well it's like that now.

"It's different." I said drinking from the wine glass Luigi gave me. I never liked any alcoholic beverage I couldn't just down quickly.

"So what the h-hell h-happened?" Luigi asked as he sat down in his chair and leaned forward, his ears ready to hear anything I told him. I relaxed in my chair and could feel the wounds from the basketball court job and the recent escape from my own goddamn house taunt me with every move I made. The tear through the back of my bullet proof armor sent a jolt of shock and chill through my spine and to my toes.

"Those crazy fucking Messina's, I'm fucked." I said sipping out of the glass once again.

"What about them what'd they d-do?" Luigi asked as his face twitched a little bit to the right.

"They tried to fucking kill me!" I said raising my voice, my anger knew no bounds. It was audacious attempt to say the least, now that I thought about it. I forced myself not to express it though. It took me six years for me make a reputation of myself being calm and collective and I was going to keep it.

"What?" Luigi asked if the word kill was a word not to be spoken in his household.

"Then they burned down my fucking house. I think Jan's dead too." I said solemnly. I was pretty sure she was somewhere burning in hell right now. I should have been there with her.

"Stupid fucks! La calamità!" Luigi yelled slamming his hand down on the table, his whole face getting red. Then as quickly as he slammed his hand down he mellowed out, sitting back relaxed in his chair.

"Yah. Vero e proprio pazzo." I said showing off my Italian skills as I sipped a little bit of my wine. I had learned a few languages in my time up here. Jan's father taught me basic Spanish and several members of the Arciere Family taught me all the Italian I needed to know to work with them.

"So y-you want to hit them b-back tonight?" Luigi asked as his arm twitched a few times.

"No I don't want to piss off your Family. We need to get the commission. They can handle this. I need a fucking vacation." I said lying back in my chair and drinking more of the premium wine. I judged too quickly, this wine wasn't half bad.

"Good thinking. We need to think this over." The crackhead said drinking out of his own wine glass. "So, you know that the Messina's aren't the only family in Liberty right?"

"Yah but I know it was them. I killed a few of their guys yesterday during that Konard hit I told you about; luckily we didn't need that chopper. Anyway the Pavanos aren't stupid enough and we haven't fucked anybody else yet so… gots to be them." I said thinking back on the people we have fucked. The Pavanos, the Messinas, and a few small street gangs were on the list.

"You know the family just got a new capo. Got the position a week or two ago." The crackhead said fiddling with his MYphone. I swore if he was playing mildly-disturbed avians I was going to kill him then and there.

"What the fuck does that have to do with me?" I asked wondering where the coke head was going with this.

"Well his name's Vince Terreli and there's a f-few other g-guys who wanna take his spot. So to protect his ass he needs to show the family he's about his business." Luigi began making all sorts of weird gestures with his hands as he did.

"And?" I asked wanting to know more even though I pretty much knew what this was all about.

"You're one of the best hitman in Liberty city. People know you and fear you. If he could take down a star like you the whole family would fear and respect him." Luigi said putting away his MYphone while sipping more of his wine. I was done for today, I couldn't stay up an hour later.

"Well… that's it then. I'm famous and they want my head. Mo Money mo problems." I said shaking my head and standing, wondering if the man was going to be polite enough to offer me a room.

"Well at least you're living." Luigi said thoughtfully, "Oh and the couch over there has a recliner. We have a big day tomorrow. I'll make some calls."

I sighed and flung myself on the couch with the best view to the TV, and put the recliner to good use. I kicked off my backsides and tightened up my house coat. Tired out of my mind I turned on the TV just to see a vintage Candy Suxxx video had already been playing on the crackhead's DVD player before I got here. I could remember that it was a scene from that old Vice City movie, Wet. I remember the day I snuck in my older brother's room. I had watched it numerous times. This was the scene where Candy and the male protagonist whose name I couldn't remember were stuck in a cave and well… You should know the rest. Luigi came in the living room quickly to apologies and change it to another channel. I went to sleep with the hearing a Kevin Heart standup on Weazle.

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**STELM: **_**Ok guys that's the prologue out the way. I just wanted to make it clear that this story IS going to be set in Crescent City. It just starts off in Liberty. I took a lot of different things from other artist. First original thing I did was the Geechee Mafia Family, an obvious spoof of the Black Mafia Family an organized crime syndicate that started off in Detroit and settled down in Atlanta. Gulla's an English sublanguage mainly spoken by African Americans from the south (Geechee is somebody who can speak the sublanguage). Arciere means Archer in Italian. N.O.O.S.E. is a spoof of S.W.A.T. made by Rockstar. SK's rant on the phone was inspired by the ending of Tupac's Hit em Up. A song dissing Biggie, his staff, record label, and crew. So sophisticated is a new song by Rick Ross. MYphone is a spoof of Iphone made by several writers. Jan is a GTA IV celebrity. She is based off of Kim Kardashian who has made a sex tape with a black guy (Ray J). The comment SK made to himself about him not living in a fancy condo as a crackhead is a message for anybody who is stable (money wise) and does drugs to see how far down it can take you. The thing about SK not wanting anybody know how he made coffee is an ongoing thing with Rockstar comparing having coffee to sex. Madam Valvone is my creation but is under the Valvone family which has been created by Rockstar. The line about SK hating joggers comes from the random character in GTA IV, Eddie Low. Donny Fortuna is a spoof of Tony Montana (Scarface) who went down defending himself at his home. Queen Basit is based off of Queen Latifa. Latifa means delicate in Arabic while Basit means enlarged. Queen Latifa starred in a movie called Set it Off and her character went out firing at the police after and armed bank robbery. Backside is a skateboard brand named by Rockstar in GTA IV. The whole conversation between SK and Luigi is inspired by Vito and Joe's conversation in A Friend of Ours. In that chapter Vito got his house burned down. The next chapter will have parts of their conversation as well. Candy Suxx is a porn star that made cameo appearances in a few of the older GTA's, Wet is one of her movies. Luigi is based off of Ken Rosenberg from GTA: Vice City who's inspired by David Kleinfeld. Alderny Shore is a spoof of Jersey Shore. Mildly-disturbed Avians is a spoof on the mobile game Angry Birds. And this had been one long ass explanation.**_


	2. A Lack of Carefulness…

**STELM: **_**Ok guys first real chapter and this one will be the last one set outside of South Harroline where the story is going to be set at. I know it was suppose to be set in one city but it's really hard to do that in the south. So I'm doing the whole states (like GTA: San Andreas was about all of Cali and Nevada) of South Carolina and Georgia. If you're reading this the first chapter has been cleaned up.**_

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_**Chapter 2: A Lack of ******__Carefulness_…

"Fuck that deal!" I said as we got into the mob provided Deimos SP. "Theraflu (Too Cold)" by Kanye west was playing on the radio but I needed something a little bit more calming. So I turned it to The Vibe that was played the R&B TLC song "Creep". This was my jam. It only managed to calm me down a little bit though as I pulled out the café parking lot. The place was pretty nice if you asked me, perfect place to sanction a murder.

"At least they didn't kill us." Luigi said feebly and it aggravated me to no end. His lifestyle was supported by crime just as bad as mine's was.

"They wouldn't try. You remember, I'm the socialite of the fucking Liberty City Costra Nostra assosciato club!" I said loosely quoting the crackhead while accelerating the drop top, almost clipping a Patriot who sent a middle finger my way. I replied by withdrawing my 9mm from my leather hip strap, pointing it at the driver with a threat to shoot. The driver in return swerved into a streetlight, dumbass.

"Calm down man. These guys are letting us off good. Just lay low in Coddin for a few years, it's not like their telling us to move to China." Luigi said trying to reason the plan out. I continued to drive through traffic towards the commercial docks where our boat was waiting.

"Well you can masturbate in Anna's Sex Gardenall you want, but I'm going to make some moves to get me out of my situation." I said as I turned the corner to the docks.

"What situation? Just keep your head above water. They gave us just enough for that. You act like there just throwing us out on the streets starving. We've lived good for a long time, now the heat is coming down on us and we need to pay the price for the luxuries we've enjoyed!" Luigi said flabbergasted that anybody could disagree with the mafioso's decision, before lying back in his chair. Luigi had the few bags he could muster and they were packed into trunk. I was left with a purple backside shirt tank, Super Barrio Bros. snapback, black skinny jeans (which somehow refused to reveal the 9mm on my hip), and some red Charles Tyler high-tops. I wouldn't say it was my style but it was swagg in somebody's household.

"Whatever." I said ending the conversation as I pulled into the dock. There were people there who directed our car into the ferry.

That whole process went by seamlessly and I decided to walk on the ship. Luigi went out to say by to random people waving at us, total crackhead move. I bought a few drinks for myself, a bagel, and a soda and went to sleep in an unoccupied booth, trying to forget about the worst morning ever.

_A few hours later…_

"SK take care seriously don't do anything stupid." Luigi said seriously, we were at his new temporary apartment. I was planning on moving closer to Beanton, closer to the city life I had grown accustom to, or at least that was what I had told Luigi.

"Alright my crack head companion, good knowing you. You've been the sparkle of loyalty in my years of cutting through the snakes and rats." I said oh as officially as possible while I shook the man's hand. The Italian cokehead laughed and waved me off as I pulled out of the cheap apartment complex's parking lot. I got a GPS on the way here and searched for the nearest gas station. I was getting as far away from those guineas as financially possible. If I was their Uncle Tom for a second longer my mom might just pull athletic gymnastic maneuvers in her grave.

When I got there I filled the sports car up, it cost me a pretty penny but I did it. I knew this car was a guzzler if I ever saw one but I would need it to get me from point A to point B. First I needed someplace to stay so a half an hour later I got onto the highway and called my half brother Roderick from my, previously Luigi owned, MYphone

"Yeah." Roderick answered after three rings.

"Yooo bro how you livin'?" I asked trying to seem casual though in reality I was on edge.

"Same ole two step. Bruh I heard shit went down at your house. You can't be found or some shit like that. Your ole lady is on the TV now saying you tried to kill her." My brother explained sounding surprised that I wasn't floating in some river somewhere. I would have been surprised that Jan was alive but I knew that closet could have been a fallout shelter if it wanted to be. More problems I guess, then again I had dirt on her entire family that I could sling right in her face if I wanted to.

"It's a lot of shit bro. I'll tell you about it when I get down there. You still own that 5 star restaurant?" I asked hoping that I had a good lay low place to stay and maybe a possible source of legal employment.

"Oh yah of course, it's never closing my brother. Two brothers living big. You hear me?" The 5 star Chef said proudly, I swore I heard somebody yell in the background. Probably some disgruntled recently fired employee I thought. "Listen brother I love you no homo and you can stop by anytime."

"Great." I said to myself as my brother hung up. I zipped through the highway traffic and knew it would be a long while before I would get to my home town. I turned it to 88.3 LIL radio, "Till I Die" by Chris Brown featuring Wiz Khalifa and Big Sean was playing. I bobbed my head to Big Sean's verse and hit 100 mph.

_9 hours later on the roads of the small city of Rustboro the hapless speedster drove by looking for shelter…_

"Damn this small place. Reminds me of fucking home already." I announced to the nonexistent nightlife of Rustboro. It wasn't even nighttime it was still six and the roads were still practically deserted. The sounds of Odd Future's Goblin Album filling the night air. "Tron Cat" was playing now; I had bought the album at a gas station. At that same place I got a blow job from a back room prostitute. Don't judge me; I needed to blow off some steam. It was either solicited sex or go back to Liberty city and shoot Don Arciere in the temple.

So as I rode through the sleepy city the now top covered Deimos SP stunk with my odor. Sweaty, hot, and nervousness filled the car up with a foreboding vibe. The sweat ruining the clothes I had on. I decided to let some air out by lowering the window. A few minutes later and I had powered the window back up; to my surprise the same stench was still there. That was when I noticed that the stench wasn't from me. That's when it hit me. I knew that smell all too well.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed as I sped up and pulled into an abandoned strip mall parking lot, afterwards driving around to the back of the husk of a mall while running over a few larger than god intended rats in the process. By the time I got out the rodents had scurried away and I swiftly walked to the back of the green sports car.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I whispered to myself pacing back and forth after I opened the trunk. My predictions were proved correct. Those fucking assholes! They set me up! As I let the trunk air out it sent a firm "fuck you" to anybody who had nose.

They got the man good too. Shrink-wrapped him up in plastic and bound him to the floor of the trunk. He looked to be of Mexican descent, probably an associate who had fucked them the wrong way. Fuck! All the shit I did for them and this is how they treat me. They just push me to the side like a fucking loose end. All the shit I covered up for them and they give me this type of treatment. Damn I knew they were letting us off too smooth. Luigi probably would have gone to jail with me. One random search and we would have been thrown in the pen for a murder we didn't commit.

I wanted to call up Arciere and tell him that this is his ass but I could only smile. The mafiosos had almost put one over on me. I sure as hell wouldn't have thought of this. If I had stayed in Coddin a "random tip" would have came in anonymously and I would sleeping with the homosexuals the next day. Instead luck and my own hard head had intervened and I was still in the game. I could get away with this and be coolin' it with my bro in two days max.

I slammed the trunk on the deformed body and looked around. Except for a few rats and waterbugs nobody was outside. Just me and my suitcase filled with problems. I had a lot of work to do but it definitely could wait till tomorrow. Plus I needed answers and nobody was going to help me this late at night. So I did what any homeless person would do and slept in my car hoping not to wake up in a ditch.

_The next day…_

"Squeeeak!" A rat squealed as I woke up and hit my head on the windshield. I was so used to waking up with Jan, the waiter girl, or with a drink in my hand it was a new feeling waking up alone and without a day plan.

"So few hours in a day." I said to myself as I cranked the car up, "She" by Tyler the Creator featuring Frank Ocean immediately playing as the car jolted to life.

I put the car in drive and maneuvered the car out the strip mall's parking lot. I drove around the town until I saw a Plow Me Hard gardening store. The place was empty but the city had grown alive since midnight last night. Neighborhood kids raced on their bikes and middle aged women were having conversations with each other.

"Welcome to Plow Me Hard. There somethin' in particular you lookin' for?" One of the female attendants (the only one I saw) asked as I walked into the close quarter garden shop. All I needed was a shovel. Those Mafioso pricks had given me four thousand to live off of for a while and I knew I could afford enough for a shovel and maybe some air freshener among other things at another store.

"Just a shovel." I told the attendant and she went searching for a shovel. She came back with a pretty decent triangle shovel.

"Will this do?" The attendant asked and I nodded in my approval. The same woman went back behind the register to ring the gardening tool up, no idea of my intentions.

"Hope you don't mind me asking but you don't look like you're from around these parts. Where you from?" The ginger middle aged woman asked as I gave her a C-note. Something she seemed to be shocked to see.

"I was born down in Vice City but I've been living in Carcer City for a while." I lied for no apparent reason. I couldn't be too sure of anybody right now though. As the saying went, lack of carefulness killed the criminal.

"That's nice. It's good to travel." She said dejected as she waved me out the store. I got my shovel and put it in the passenger's seat. I kept the top on though; I didn't want anybody to see me right now.

I stayed within the perimeters of the law as I cruised around the town looking for a general store. It took me a nerve racking 20 minutes but a pretty large general store revealed itself and I did my best to look as inconspicuous as possible even though the Deimos SP was 10 steps above any other car in the small town.

As I got out I got a few looks from people walking in and out of the general store. This was obviously the type of town where everyone knew everybody. That fact plus my day old flamboyant clothes made me a target of attention, exactly what I didn't want. If this store didn't have any clothes I passed a small Ranch outlet store on the way here. That should have some low prices I could take advantage of.

Thinking on my toes I decided not to lock the doors. If anybody stole the car then my ass was clear. The only thing I'd miss would be the thousands the mob gave me to settle down with. They must have figured that'd be enough to keep us sitting until the pigs could snap us. I left the key there too. It was a car jacker's dream. I would know the best; I've jacked my share of cars. Looking back before I entered the air conditioned general store I could only hope my luck would change.

Walking into the general store I saw that the business was well patroned. People walked freely along the aisle browsing, some knowing exactly what they wanted, reporting to one of the two manned cash registers.

It didn't take too much searching for me to find an air freshener, a Large Sack cordless vacuum, some batteries, a pair of work gloves, a book bag, a set of kitchen knives, and a flashlight. To any onlooker I'd look like a house husband, a college kid, or maybe a do it yourselfer. Then again my streetwalker clothes might portray differently.

"Is that all for you today?" The cashier asked after I waited 5 minutes for some grandma who took her time getting out her discount card.

"Yes thank you." I said as the cashier bagged all of my purchases back into my cart.

"That'll be 176 dollars and 32 cents." The cashier said and I managed to pull out two of the four hundred dollars I had in my skinny jean pockets. Damn, I was starting to get too used to these things. I gave the clean cut bills to him and he smiled, probably glad I wasn't some stupid college boy who never had enough money and would say that he was 20 to 30 dollars short.

"Excuse me but I was going to ask if there was a local hunting spot nearby?" I asked the cashier who looked at me confused.

"You don't look quite like the hunting type boy." The older broad shouldered Caucasian man said looking me up and down. He probably was a hunter himself, or at least used to be one.

"Just came back from up north. There wasn't any deer running up over yonder so I figures when I came back to my home state that I'd go back to what my daddy did. Coon hunting." I said regretting my words because thinking on it now it was far from coon season.

"Little outta season don't you think?" The cashier asked warily as he gave me my change. I knew I had to play this smart.

"Well tha law ain't did nothing good for me in a long time so I ain't listenin' to it no more. My father never did and I'm from tha same tree." I said using the old; we are all under one system type approach. Thinking on my father I always had good memories of him, even though none of them had to do with coon hunting. He lived out in the country and I always saw him struggling and going back to live with my grama. I wasn't too sad to see him move out to Los Santos. There were a lot of opportunities there. South Harroline was definitely going on hard times for a while. I didn't pay attention to politics as much as I used to, but I did know that that bitch Kiki Staley wasn't making things any better.

"Good man if you'd been askin me. Go down the road here and you'll see our city hall. Take a right there and keep going down George Memorial road. There's a big red gate to your right if you go down there for a good 5 miles." The cashier said and I shook his hand.

"Thanks, preciate it."I said walking out the store pushing my cart. To my somewhat disappointment the car was still there and I quickly unloaded the cover up material. The only exception was book bag which was for the money, just in case I needed to make a great escape. The whole set of kitchen knives were to cut open the wrap, the vacuum was to clean anything up that would suggest a dead body was ever in the back, the work gloves were to handle the body and shovel, and I needed the flashlight to see the whole thing go down.

But first I needed to change clothes. So I made sure everything fit in the passenger's seat, the drop top Deimos SP was packed tight. So I made haste, driving the Deimos SP to the Ranch clothing store I had seen earlier. This time I brought an extra 400 dollars and my keys in with me, I was too far into this one.

"Welcome to tha Ranch boy." The cashier said in a poorly executed fake wild western accent.

I said nothing in reply as I browsed the store's wares. As I grabbed two pairs of denim jeans the cashier intervened.

"We don't serve no fancy boys round these parts." The cashier said sternly, his friendly attitude morphing into an angry cowboy type state of mind. I didn't reply and just picked out three t-shirts and finally two plaid button-up tops. This was more the modest type of thing I wanted to work with. I was about to go to the counter but decided to get some leather CopeHage work boots.

"You hear me boy? No ponies served in this store!" The Ranch employee said resentfully. He was a middle aged red neck man with a rough shaved beard. He was pretty built for a guy his age. I wanted to just put the stuff down and leave but I knew that wouldn't help my image any. Whatever image there was to be had in this small southern town five hours from my hometown.

"You want my money or not asshole?" I said asked gaining a little bit of confidence as I did. Some bullies just needed to be shown a thing or two things about business. The customer is always right.

"You want to say that again boy?" The redneck said pulling out a sawed-off shotgun from behind the counter and pointing it at me. I made no movements, it would just make him "the boss" if I flinched.

"Nope. I do want to buy these clothes though." I said putting the clothes on the cashier's counter. The redneck smiled and returned his shotgun to the shelf under the cashier's counter.

"I likes you boy and not in the way you might or might not like. Most people would just run out with their tail in between their legs." The redneck said revealing that he had tried this maneuver before. Explaining the empty store.

"Ok." I said not wanting to continue a conversation with the man.

"All that'll be 379 dollars even." The redneck said losing that terrible accent, now settling for a more mountain folk type accent. Not any better but at least it was genuine.

I slipped four pretty Benjamins from my black skinny jean pockets and handed it to the man who struggled with giving me my change. I was patient though. I had spent a lot on these things and I might have to buy a few more things in the future. Plus every penny counted.

So after getting my change I waved goodbye to the attendant and went back to the Deimos placing the bag of clothes and shoe box neatly on top of everything else in the passenger seat. I then decided I would have to change behind the abandoned mall I had discovered last night.

I cranked the car up and Odd Future's "Bitch Suck Dick" coming on and I couldn't help but feel a little comedic relief at the apparent parody of most modern based and krunk music. Now that I thought about it I hadn't listened to Ocean Gang or Lil B in a while.

_Four hours later…_

"Damn Swell Gentlemen made this look…a lot…easier!" I said as I struck the ground for the umpteenth time. It had only gotten easier in these last few minutes, and even now it was a struggle. I had only a T-shirt on now and my denim jeans. The plaid shirts were way too hot for my current situation.

I figured at about 3 feet I was pretty good. I wasn't that from the trail and only about half a mile from the Deimos SP. It was the hardest task for my nose and sanity for me to carry the mangled body to its grave site. A spot that already had a small recess in it. It was surrounded by some wood vines and trees so I figured it was as good a place as any. It only proved to be rough as I was forced to chop through the stubborn tree roots. Luckily most hunters hunted earlier and the ones that hunted late were usually easy to spot. I figured the vines would protect my flashlight from gaining too much attention.

So as I climbed out of my own hole I could only feel proud. I felt like I did good, this was the end of it. Just cut open the body and I'd be done. So deciding I wouldn't take a much needed break I grabbed the thinnest knife I could find in the set that I'd bought and sliced the wrap off and let the body roll into the hole. I wanted to throw up but I knew it would just be biological candy for an investigator. So I held my meal, threw the balled up plastic, the knife, and shovel into the hole with the corpse, and started to cover the body up with my glove covered hands. At least I was at the easiest part.

Once that was done I grabbed my other tools and head out to the trail. It took me half an hour to get back to the car. Seeing it still on the side of the road made me glad all this work hadn't gone to waste. All I needed to do was see my half brother and I'd be good for at least the next few weeks.

Feeling tired out of my mind I flopped down on the driver's seat, but something was out of place. Nothing had been stolen but I felt something unusual in the seat. I got out the car to see if I was sitting on something but nothing was there. All my cover up material was in the passenger seat, the outfit I rode here in was folded in a neat stack and the clothes I bought here were still in their bag, with the exception of the boots, jeans, and t-shirt I had on now. I had drove cars like this before and I knew they weren't supposed to be so low cushioned.

So I pressed on it more and felt the weirdest thing. It felt like sand. So I pressed on it harder and I still felt the same sand like feeling I felt before. So I got out one of my spare kitchen knives and cut one of the hard spots. I knew this wouldn't be good. As I cut down harder on the driver's seat I saw it spill out. Pure cut cocaine. I had to make sure so I softly stabbed the seat and put it to my tongue, it almost instantaneously went numb. Yup pure cut cocaine.

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" I said shaking my head. Those guineas had it all planned out, if I found out about the body I still had the cocaine on my back, literally.

I knew if they went to these extremes to get me out the business that they'd have some other surprises. So I walked over to the passenger side of the Deimos. I opened the door and managed to open the unlocked glove compartment that I'd never opened before and I wasn't surprised. There was a magnum in there that I knew had my fingerprints on them some type of way. Thinking on my toes I closed both doors, put on my gardeners gloves, got my flashlight, and finally the planted gun.

As I ran through the forest I thought on how I should have done something about the cocaine but decided that I'd hold it off for later. I needed to take care of this problem first. So I found a shady spot far from the burial site that hosted a rusty blue car probably made in the prehistoric era. It was one old piece of shit. I figured the place was perfect so I carefully buried the gun under some leaves under the car. If some teenagers came across this during a stoning session or a sex party then I'd be their problem, I'd be gone.

Running back my sports car I was happy I was on the cross country team when I was in high school because I made no time of the run and came back hardly winded. The cocaine was still pouring and I thanked god that I had bought the hand vacuum. I quickly turned it on and sucked the cocaine up like a Marva Fabulous sucks dick in her famous interracial scenes.

I carefully cut open the rest of my seat and extracted the cocaine that spilled out. I got about a quarter kilo in the driver's seat and emptied the passenger seat of its contents to cut the other seat open to find that they were equal in measurement. A half kilo meant that I was either really fucked or was going to be financially stable for more than a little while longer. First I needed a duffle bag, some tape, and a whole lot of Ziploc bags. It was 7:20 and I knew the general store was going to be closing soon so I put the wrapped bags over with the rest of my crap and made a beeline.

_Harlotte, North Harroline, six hours later…_

"Sure babe I got some spare…just don't tell Layne Mabye." The scrawny prostitute said looking down the street as she took out 40 dollars. I was selling this shit cheap tonight. I didn't have time to play, that and I had a line for myself.

"Fuckin bitch just hurry up!" I said knowing how these type people were, they were the victims of violence and it's all they really knew. I wasn't trying to save any type of bitches today. So I grabbed her two twenties, gave her the a bag of the white, and sped off to the next corner I found a few more whores and the bitches came running, thinking I was some expensive prostitute patron. Maybe a politician or an athlete.

After that deal went down I looked to my bag to see that it was almost empty, on the other hand I almost had no room for the money. The rest I figured I'd give to the rest to my bro. A few bags would be enough for me to get a nice high while I was getting used to home. As I was driving by a purple oracle flanked me leaving me stationary. I just wanted to get back on the road I didn't want to deal with this shit right now. So I rammed the car to the frustration of the man inside the car who screamed at me as he stayed stationary in his car.

"Hey nigga you getting my mothfuckin money!" A man finely dressed in a black leatherjacket with a gray hoodie under it yelled at me after honking his horn, which sounded a comedic horse race sound. If I didn't know that this was most likely the Layne Mabye the hoes back there was going on about then I would have thought he was just some hoodrat. Now I was probably going to have to kill him. I had to let him see my face first. My gun was still holstered on my hip and I was ready to use it at any time. I knew I'd have to shoot three times faster than he did to stay alive.

"Hey get back here bitch!" The man yelled as a few of his hoes started running. Then as I got out the car he started walking towards me, "Who the fuck you think you are pimping my hoes nigga?"

"Fuck you." I said and pulled out my 9, the man had a full second to half way pull out his Uzi but he had lead in his chest before he could do anything with it. I ran to the man and stole his Uzi. I rifled through his pickets to find an extra 300 in his pocket and a Whiz Quantum. Now I had some protection and two phones with me I thought as I got back in my car.

I made a U-turn and sped past through the streets of Harlotte. I was bumping to "Fish" as I passed a few speeding police going right past me. Two dead people in one day. Fuck the free and proud American Dream I thought as I tried my best to relax in the torn seats. I had been a good ways away from the dead pimp when I looked through his phone. As I looked through it a phone number called, contact's name was Stevie.

"Hey Layne you got that a car for me." A Caucasian voice asked. I knew I had to make up something quick.

"Nah this his brother Ricky. Layne gave me this phone a few minutes ago. He's pimpin right now. I got the car for you though" I explained to the man who must have been some sort of Chop Shop owner.

"I thought Layne was an only child." The man who went by Stevie asked suspiciously.

"We had a fight as kids but we are cool now. He just says things. He forgot to tell me where your shop is though." I explained hoping this would go on smoothly.

"Oh its tha Fix em' Up garage in Cockswold. Just drive it through. Once my people look at it they'll see how much you get paid." Stevie said and hung up. As I was speeding through the street I threw the phone out into a dark alley a shattering sound coming afterwards.

I had totaled out to 20,000 dollars in one day. I threw away all the stuff I no longer needed after I left Rustboro, so now the passenger seat was almost completely occupied by duffle bags of money and the spare cocaine I had. I had the gun I used to escape my own house with me and had the gun I stole from the pimp on safety and on my unoccupied hip holster. If I had bought a hat you could have called me a well armed 21st century cowboy I thought as I put the repair shop on my GPS after a few seconds of searching.

I knew this car in its current state would go for about 30,000 even though its interior was shit, and its front was beat up. A car like this would usually go for four times that but I knew any more money and I wouldn't be able to fit it on the next taxi to good old SH. With my final thoughts of silly things like money I zipped through the flamboyant Harlotte night life.

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**STELM: Ok guys another long ass chapter taking up three cities, two of them being located in North Harroline which is North Carolina's Parody and the other one taking place in the state of Coddin (Massachusetts's nickname is Cod City) Rustsboro is a parody of the small town of Goldsboro, NC. Harlotte (a sexual innuendo) is based of Charlotte. Didn't have to work too hard on that name. Anyway this whole chapter was based off of the beginning of the book the Fall Guy by Simon Wood. There were a lot of songs references in this chapter most of them belonging to Tyler the Creator's (and the rest of Odd Future's) album Goblin. I think this is one of the most comedic yet raw alternative rap type groups out now. Tyler is really a beast at everything he sets his mind to so yah… Anna's Sex Garden (sexual innuendo) is a spoof of Martha's Vineyard. A place a lot of the members of my family and me visited. Really nice place if you know people who have a summer home there that they aren't use. It's really expensive any other way. Beanton is a spoof of Boston, the city being nicknamed "Bean Town" (shouts out to Metal Harbinger on that one). Cockswold (sexual innuendo) is based on Charlotte's Cotswold neighborhood.**

**Charles Tyler shoes are a spoof of the Chuck Taylor All-Star shoe line. The "same ole two step" line came from one of the guys at my job who says it all the time when answering the age old question "How are you doing?" CopeHage work boots are a spoof of the Copenhagen smokeless tobacco brand. Cooon hunting is raccoon hunting for anybody who doesn't know. Ocean gang (lead by soulja boy) and Based God being the leader of the based music movement. Based artist usually focus more on the beat and rhythm does than they do the actual lyrics, since most music is the exact opposite a lot of people new rap music completely. **

**Well anyway Swell Gentlemen is a spoof on Goodfellas (in reference to the iconic burial scene). Marva Fablouse is a spoof on my favorite (if I had to choose) porn star Ava Devine. Kiki Staley is a spoof on the TERRIBLE politician that started running SC after our past governor had that infamous Argentina scandal (Mark Stanford), and it hasn't gotten any better. We still have a confederate flag flying by our Statehouse, and our public school system (which I am in now) is one of the worst in the entire Country. I know it the best, I went to the 22****th**** worst school in the country by this( 2009/03/10/south-carolina-is-home-to-11-of-nations -25-worst-public-schools/) site's standards. Although the school has changed for the better the piss poor funding they get is atrocious. **

**In closing the basic story of this chapter was based off of The Fall Guy by Simon Wood. Except Todd Collins dumped the coke. SK got rich off it, selling it cheap. Layne Mabye is a spoof of Wayne Brady and his portrayal as a pimp and killer was based off the Dave Chappelle with Wayne Brady Skit. YOLO radio came from the saying, You Only Live Once. A phrase the rapper Drake used in his semi-new song "The Motto" ft. Lil Wayne. Plow Me Hard is a random sexual innuendo'd store. Once I looked up gardening stores and once I saw "plow" I was sold. Large Sack is a vacuum company (another sexual innuendo) that really isn't based off of anything. Whiz Quantum is a nod to the Fallout series's Nuka Quantum. The drink would make your piss glow when you took a WHIZ.**

**Well that's it the next chapter will shape the story. The first few chapter will be real big. The ones after that will be a little bit shorter. SO with all that done, RIP Left-Eye. An continue to Read & Review.**


	3. The Old State

**STELM: **_**Ok guys this is your first look into the crazy crazy state of South Harroline. Somber start and a criminal ending. First though I'm going to copy from Metal Habringer by replying to reviews pre-story. I'm sure other people have done that before but I read MH more than them so… Imma start. **_

**Zane Longsharks:**_** The mob does tend to work with proficiency and ruthlessness. Very lucratively as well. I don't know who it exactly it happened to but there was an informer (against the mob) who got shot in the face and got a canary shoved up his ASS. That's pretty cool if you ask for me. I'd hate to fuck with the mob. YOLO has been my Motto this whole summer break, been working good too, until my friend's mom caught me rolling up (real unfunny story, a good learning lesson though). Too late to change the parody now, it has already set in the digital matter. Right bastards is a phrase I don't exactly understand. BTW I'm definitely going to catch up to you, in chapters (Windpoint City) so watch out! **_

**Native Guns: **_**I wouldn't know about Johnson City/Curry Island, never been in that part of the woods. I'm just waiting on the Kanye West vid with her (not the Yeezy part just the Kimy K's ass part). Hey a wise man once said, pussy is pussy, and a big ass is…. A big ass. Natural pussy of course. Yah, Tupac's beastliness is immeasurable. Rick Ross is a bitch for even comparing himself to Pac. Pac was a crack baby who rose to the top, William Leonard Roberts II (the real Rick "Freeway" Ross is a drug dealer who just got out of jail) was a patrol officers. The only reason I listen to him is for the hype same thing for Drake, he was an actor on Degrassi. Biggie's "What's Beef" was pretty dope as well. "Make my name taste like ass when you speak it." "Kidnap kids, fuck em in the ass, throw them over the bridge." Pretty dope lines if you ask me.**_

_**I forgot to mention that sexual innuendo (Harlotte), surprised or not I learned that word from the Bible. My ma always told me to Google something that I didn't understand; that's how I discovered porn. Ava's more an Asian/Spanish type girl. She can be powdered up to be white though. I'll definitely refer to your list the next time I have nothing else to do (expired). About South Carolina we are more like smack dab on the east. I wouldn't say faulty power lines but our hoods are fucking terrible. It still segregate too (in my eyes) There's a beautiful sunshine golf enthusiastic Columbia then there's a shady (nobody wants to go there except the people who are already there) type of Columbia. The place that was shown in Gangland was only a few minutes from my house (matter of fact I played basketball there a few days ago). A lot has changed for the better but we still have a long way to go. First we need to get young kids of the streets and into school (Nikki Haley isn't helping that at all). I really based the arc of this story on the GTA games that I have played and like the most (Vice City probably had the best atmosphere).Hey and about the songs, to each his own. My new favorite song, Kanye West – New God Flow. If you listen to that whole song and don't like it then I'll listen to Goatwhore for a whole week.**_

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_**Chapter 3: The Old State**_

"Love you mama." I said putting a hand on my late mother's tombstone. It read Mary Elizabeth Houston, she always hated her name. She always preferred people to call her Lizzy.

I didn't need to hide anything; tears flowed freely from my eyes. But I couldn't help but smile I had good times with her. Even if they weren't the best of times she made me feel like I had someone to go to.

I could still fairly remember the time she took me driving. She cursed more then than I had ever heard her curse before. She was a beautiful woman though. She deserved every good thing that happened to her. I remember the times I fought and got my ass beat when people made fun of my mom's hearing impairments. Didn't like fighting but family was one righteous reason.

As soon as I got back from getting jumped she'd beat me again. I no knew it was out of love but as a big headed kid it meant that she wanted to torment me more. I still fought for her even more. It was only when she passed away did I lose that sense in a cause that was worthy for me to fight for. I knew she wouldn't want me doing the things I'd done in the recent years. So I figured I'd stop the violence, if only temporarily. As a message of peace and neutrality I withdrew the gun I had used at my own home amongst a few other occasions when it was needed. I had the Uzi back in the taxi cab so I decided not to bother it. One weapon of destruction today, hopefully there would be a day I could lay down all my guns. One day.

Then I looked to my older brother's grave. This one was fresher. Usually the family's father would go by the grave but Damian was always the family man who would protect mama when she needed protection. I can't believe it had been a whole two years since he passed. It was just me and Roderick by ourselves now. I had to remind myself to visit Damian's kids over in Marian; I had met his white slut of a wife only once, thankfully. Who knows what she was doing right now. Sure as hell not thinking about the buried soldier who loved his kids and fought to his death for the US of A.

Thinking on a ritual our family practiced before we left somewhere I made the love sign in sign language. Tears still flowing down my cheeks. I knew if I stood there any longer I'd be glued to the spot for another thirty minutes.

As I walked back to the taxi cab I could only think on how longer it would be until I would be doing the same sinful things once again. Knowing my half brother it wouldn't be too long. At least she'd be happy that I wasn't piss poor. Once I sold that Deimos SP my total cash amount totaled up to 50,000. I spent the night in a sleazy hotel in Harlotte for one night and then spent 9,000 on a shopping spree. All sorts of luxury brand names from Didier Sachs, Crowex, Kronos, Le Chein, and Gnocchi. Among some more streetwalker type clothes that I could wear if I needed to go to some less than fortunate neighborhood like the one I grew up in.

"Next stop drop me off by Houston's Low Country Cooking in Crescenta." I commanded the taxi driver as I got in the car. The back seat being filled with bags, and my designer clothes. For somebody who just got their house burned down and betrayed by a major Liberty City Family I was doing pretty good for myself.

I knew it wasn't going to take too long for us to get to Crescenta. Right now we were in Hentown, the birthplace of most of my family. You see South Harroline was separated into four different major areas; Hentown, Crescenta, Marian, and Garrissville. It's been a while since I visited any of them.

"Uh can you change the station to BOSS Radio 103.9?" I said remembering my favorite station from when I was a young blood out on the South Harrolinian streets. It sure as hell was better than the shit that was playing right now. I could barely recognize it as Garri Tunes 91.5, a country station. Never could understand how something like fiddling would make you millions.

"Ok boss man." The man said in a thick Indian accent as we sped our way through Hentown traffic bumping to Future's "Gone to the Moon". The area had changed a lot since I was last here. In this part of the town there were blondes with near perfect tans were on roller skates on the side walk flanked by teenage skateboarders who gained pleasure in the process of failure and success. The setting completed by freshly painted retail stores.

It didn't take two hours for that all to change to old houses with beautifully crafted yet unkempt and rusted iron gates protecting less than average paint peeled houses. After passing some of the better neighborhoods we passed the shadier side of town. Filled with Old ladies watching the road, guys a little younger than me lighting up, and there was even a large brawl in between two shanty town like houses in serious need of repair.

We were about to leave the area when something hit my eyes like a subway. A large tag behind a Burger shot read GMF. It was almost a punch to the gut. I thought those guys were long gone, yet the tag was still fresh. Soon after I saw an abandoned church with high end cars surrounding it. Suited black men with guns, it could be no other group. The GMF were really on a rise again. They were the only ones with such class. Such style, I'd seen them work before, hell I did a few jobs for them myself. We passed the church quick due to the Indian man's increasing paranoia.

It was about an hour later did we start closing in on the 5 star grill. Crescenta looked different as well. I could see downtown in the distance. It had gotten bigger as well. I assumed that's where my bro had set up shop, but I my thoughts of big city life were flat lined when the taxi man stopped me in front of a piss poor restaurant that went by the same name as Roderick's restaurant. This was such a sorry mistake; did I look like I wanted to visit this shit hole?

"This is the place." The taxi man said and I sighed in exasperation, no you dipshit this wasn't the place.

"No it's probably downtown." I told the taxi man.

"Impossible there's only one Louston's Low Country Grill in Crescenta. That's here." The Indian man explained. I had to see this for myself. I swore if I was on HoodWinked then I was going to be so pissed. Just in case I tightened the Pimp's Uzi on my waist. I had it equiped on our way here.

"Alright stay here and let me see what this is all about." As I crossed the seat I saw two ladies on the corner giving me cat calls. Sure you see a black man in nice clothes and you think he'll tip you. The girls were average for prostitutes for their class, nothing worth getting crabs.

I wanted to go in there and ask the owner of this shit stain to tell me where the OTHER Low Country Grill was at. Then aid him in his suicide. Yup that was the plan. That was until a familiar face emerged from out of the restaurant. It was a bittersweet moment as I saw that it was indeed Big Rod. My half brother. My only living brother.

"What up pimpin?" The large and somewhat light skinned man yelled bear hugging me, almost bringing us both to the ground.

"Uh I could ask you the same. What this thing?" I asked motioning to the "eating establishment".

"This is the restaurant. The one Grandpa would have been proud of you know? Simple but hella good. Come in though, its slick hot out this bitch. Plus niggas be scheming out here, come on." Roderick said and my heart sunk to the ground. This was the shit I was going to have to deal with for the next while or so?

"Wait up and help me with my bags." I said trying not to show my anger.

"Come on bruh." The big man said grabbing three of my five bags with ease. I grabbed the last two that was stuffed with my money and the rest of my coke. I probably could buy the whole restaurant with this type of money. Not that I'd want to.

As I entered the grill I threw my bags in a closet that held all the cleaning utilities. He then ordered one of the waitresses to make me a pressed turkey sandwich. He motioned for me to sit down at any available table while he went into the kitchen. I obeyed and took one of the few empty seats. The place was pretty occupied for a restaurant of this status.

I could see it in the eyes of everyone here; I was an outsider to them. Fancy all Perseus suit with a Kronos watch, and some fresh cologne, I attracted a lot of attention. It wasn't long after I sat down did a female waiter come to me and gave me a Funkin' Screw. As I enjoyed my drink I noticed that the restaurant hosted a pretty diverse group of patrons. Blacks made the majority but whites and even a few Hispanics enjoyed their food here. The place had two mid priced TVs, one being reserved for sports use, the other one was on the news. There were about four employees on the floor, probably four more if you included the cooks and the dishwasher.

A few minutes later my food was ready and I got a free refill from the waitress who went by the name Monica smiled at me and asked me how I knew Rod. I told her about how we were brother s and all the good adventures we had as kids, the waitress couldn't stay to talk for too much longer. A biker couple just walked in. I couldn't help but look at Monica's rear as she went to serve the customers; she had it all, the figure, the personality, and the face. Why the hell was she working in a low rent place like this, a place that had probably not been seen this busy in quite a time?

I wondered on that as I devoured my sandwich, it was surprisingly good. I kept asking myself how they could make something so good in such a place. I might change my mind this whole crappy restaurant might not be the worst place to end up at. That's was when the big B word happened.

"Fucking get down on the ground! Everybody! Now!" A masked individual commanded in a desperate tone, pointing his gun at everyone who didn't hit the floor. He was dressed in a duster and some black boots. I knew he held more surprises and probably had on a bullet proof vest.

"Yes sir yes sir." A short Asian waitress replied her shock coming on her face a few seconds too late. I was pretty sure she was stoned as she laughed going back behind the cashier to remove bills to put it in one of their take out bags.

"Hurry up bitch!" The masked individual yelled back harshly. I knew I needed to do something quick. This guy wasn't stable. He had looked my way a few times. As I said earlier I was an easy target. I needed to get him when he wasn't focused.

"Now I need one good fucking screw to take as a bitch for my own." The man said desperately knocking down wooden simply decorated chairs and tables. Kicking innocent people if they were in his way. That was before he found Monica and laughed maniacally.

"Yes you'll do so fucking good. Come here." The man said grabbing the waitress by the hair causing her to scream in agony. He dragged the poor girl all the way to the door. It was at that time did the man rush to get to the money the Asian waitress had gotten for him.

It was in this moment did I decide to strike. I left my nina at the grave site but my Uzi was still strapped safely on me. I knew I had to work in this man's desperate need for money hands. If I reacted a second too slow or moved a second to quick I could die right here in my brother's restaurant. My label would be the Anti-Hero. You know the cops they like to search everything, and the spare cocaine wasn't exactly hidden.

I said no words; I set my Uzi's safety off and had to trust I had bullets in the chamber. Hoping for the best I let the gun do its business. The weapon of swift death popped out a few of its babies into the criminal's brain, the blood going all over the money and the Asian waitress's face. The short Asian fell back and it was only a few seconds later did she yell for help, the same laugh still lingering, what type of people did my brother employ? Roderick then came out the kitchen and looked at me like I was some superhero.

"Damn cousin that was real as fuck!" My brother said patting me on the backs as others started joining in on the celebration.

"Ok people clear out, all the food you have now is yours. I trust nobody will go on the news and make up some story. Alright, just keep what you've seen to yourself and enjoy your food." Roderick said as he led the crowd of rattled customers out the door with their plates and food in hand. Roderick looked at the dead body in disgust. I had seen two before I had even got here, plus the numerous other occaisians that required death's long reach.

"Monica you straight?" Roderick ask the now dusted off Monica.

"Yah Rod all he was pulling was weave. Thanks for buying me a new one." She said/commanded with a good humored smirk.

"If you worked a little harder then you might be able to afford it yourself." Roderick said and a moment of silence was exchanged as the two shared an awkward silence. I never knew Roderick would care so dearly for tips. What has the economy come to these days?

"Whatever you say Rod. You want me to call the Doctor for this punk?" Monica asked motioning to the dead criminal.

"Ok now where's this high-rise condo brother?" I asked knowing the chef had sold him a load of bullshit. Monica laughed at the question.

"Just get off my ass, it all come through in time. First off I need you to make a few moves for me. Imma send you the addresses of the people I need you to see. First ones a drug dealer, tell him we need 10 ounces, and a codeine bottle. Tell him that Roderick sent you. The guy you're looking for is Cruz. After that I need you to grab a TV for me. I have a special deal for a new model at this electronic store called Plugged Up. Just slip my name in there and you'll be set. Here's 500 it'll cover everything." Roderick said now officially making me his errand boy; I could barley hold in my excitement.

"All that shit for only 500 dollars." I asked astonished that he even had that much money.

"When your name means as much as mines does well…you know" Roderick said in a typical cocky tone.

"What about my pay?" I said wondering how I was going to all this shit for free even though I was basically sitting on stacks.

"You're stayin' over at my house. That's your pay." Roderick said as Monica went over to the phone to call the elusive "Doctor.

"Whatever, I'm supposed to do this all without company?" I asked hoping to get some backup just in case some shit went wrong.

"Yah sure. Tank come meet with my cousin he's too pussyfooted to pick us up some shit." Roderick said loudly as if me stopping the stick up was nothing compared to picking up some slightly illegal recreational materials.

In came the goliath I thought as a monster of a man came skulking out the kitchen, "Yeah Chef. We riding in my piece a shit?" The "goliath" said with a lighter tone that I thought he had.

"Your choice Tank, I'm staying here until the Doctor comes by." Roderick said complacently before adding, "You have the rest of the day off."

"Best news I've heard all day. Well come on hero." The man known as Tank said motioning for me to come outside. He started off at a brisk pace and it was hard for me to keep up the pace with the larger man. As we were about to pass those average prostitutes I saw earlier Tank made conversation. He was quite the funny man. Then again I guess it wasn't that hard to impress whores. The goliath gave the one he was talking to a firm ass grab before he left laughing as he said goodbye. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.

"You heard these niggas gone get fucked up?" Tank asked me as we got into his green Blista Compact.

"Roderick and who?" I asked knowing the backroom chef had to know a little bit.

"He invites some real niggas. High ranked guys from the OG Bright and the Naluba Riverside Goons." Tank said knowledgably as we pulled out of a dirt parking area. He was about to continue but I had to slow him down.

"Hold up who the fuck are these guys? I thought MOB and GMF still ran this shit." I said remembering the times when me and Roderick had to deal with them through our childhood.

"MOB? Fuck them niggas they weren't shit compared to OG Bright. OG Bright took control as soon as Naluba Riverside Goons established themselves as a respectable set over Kin Nation. GMF are trying to come back so are those Dixie Mafia fools. There use to be some Latino gang around here until some Mexican Cartel whooped ass. That ended just about a month or two ago. You could still see the damage. Shit everybody's trying to take control of shit. The only people I haven't fucked with are those motor cycling fools up in Garrisville." Tank explained setting the record straight, shit was getting real down in the south and I came a few days before the criminal apocalypse.

"What about the pigs what the fuck are they doing?" I asked wondering why I wasn't seeing tanks patrolling the streets.

"Shit when the fucking Cartel de la Costa get's into shit the police have a good enough head to take bribes and tour the suburbs." Tank said taking a drink of his Dud Light, I wanted to say something about it but I decided against it. It was his car; if we crashed and I died at least it would end my suffering. As the silence prolonged Tank turned on the radio to BOSS 103.9.

"This is the one and only DJ Rap Harbinger. Yah you heard me bitch the fucking harbinger of the fucking rap game. Always playing new shit before you could say Imma Boss. Real nigga shit only no fucking lame shit. My fucking favorite song right here shouts out to my baby girl for yall bitch niggas! Nina!" DJ RHB ranted before he played She Solve All Problems by Juicy J.

"Ahhh shit. This my shit right here." Tank said bumping his head to the music while running a red light, "You a bitch in the streets but you gangsta on Chirpster!"

We rode the rest of the way listening to DJ RHB's best. The drug dealer lived out in an apartment complex in Jaybul. Luckily for us all the location Rod had texted me were located in Crescenta. This neighborhood according to Tank was the El Linaje marijuana stronghold. Several hubs surrounding the area. It was some of the lower priced deals they made before the cartel moved in. Now the survivors of the gang war are just trying to sell a little something under the cartel's nose. According to Tank it was risky as most drug deals were but the drugs the ex-gang members sold were dirt cheap.

"Alright Kareem right? I swear I heard that name somewhere important." Tank said as we got out the car. I checked my strap again and decided that I'd tell the man. He was helping me out on this one so I wasn't going to hide anything from him.

"Uh my name in Liberty city was SK. Might remember me from I'm Rich. I went out with January…" I started before Tank cut me off.

"Natasha Vasquez? Yo I remember it all now. Says you tried to kill her by burning your own house down. Why the fuck did you come down here?" Tank asked bewildered.

"I grew up down here." I said simply as we entered the brick apartment building Roderick pointed us out to. Not even explaining the whole scenario.

"Hmph." Tank said his curiosity momentarily quelled before he began again, "So how was she in the sack? Trust me bruh I've seen the sex tape but always wondered what it felt like in real life." Tank explained. To be truthful for the time that me and Jan had been together it wasn't that much of a star struck experience although she was very athletic and somewhat flexible. A good screw was a good screw, and she was exactly that.

"She was a strong woman, soft but figured. She had been with a few people before as you may know. I'd give her a 9. Definitely the best I've ever had." I said and Tank nodded impressed.

"Ok the guy's apartment number is right here. I saw the nine you used to cap that desperate son-of-a-bitch. That'll do, by the way thanks for killing the guy. We were just about to take out the sticks but Roderick knew it was going to hurt civilians." Tank explained before he knocked on the door. He revealed he had in his possession a mini submachine gun on his waist. Guess we were all strapped.

"Yah that Tank. Whose this other punto?" A Hispanic voice asked from behind the door.

"He's Rod's bro. Come on Cruz you know I wouldn't screw you over." Tank said and several clicks sounded from behind the door. It then after one final loud click opened to reveal a Mexican with a chopper pointing it at both of us. Through my cold cut criminal instincts I jumped back with my hands raised. The Mexican only laughed and the two criminals shook hands like they were good friends and the whole gun pointing thing never happened.

"Your friend is a little how you say jumpy eh Tank." The Mexican who I figured was Cruz said leading us into the apartment. As we were led to it's center we saw several other Mexicans in a living room with a single fan. It smelt terrible.

_30 minutes later…_

"Ok that was easy." I said as me and Tank went out the Mexican drug house a little intoxicated. The marijuana was one me and the codeine was on Tank. The drugs came with complementary drinks from the Latinos and Latinas. We were walking down the stairs when we saw a Mexican storm up towards us rounding a corner.

"Tell those Linaje fucks to stop dealing on our fucking turf. You fucking maricone!" The man said clad in a Hawaiian button up shirt with cheap denim jeans. The previous didn't really matter once the Hispanic whipped out a magnum from a back strap. A quick rain of bullets from Tank saved our lives. Now in panic mode we both made our way down the stairs only to get fired on by some fully automatic bullets. They practically tore the wooden stairs up. We fled back to the relative safety of the top floor where Cruz resided. We crouched low as we tried to make our way to the door.

Before we could even get there it swung open about 8 Mexicans came out all armed to the teeth. Some with automatics, some with shotguns, and some with dual pistols. They looked at us like we had just shot their madre.

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted these gringos." A shotgun wielding Mexican said pointing his boomstick at me threateningly.

"Woah woah!" I exlaimed holding my hands up in a sign of peace without remembering to lay down my armaments, if the latinos were more trigger happy I'd be swissed by now.

"Some of your latino friends are out there. They got some fucking military grade down there!" Tank said not raising up his hands for shit. The Mexicans looked at each other thoughtfully before one of them rushed inside and came back with a rope. Cruz and his compadres silently managed to form an escape exit and one by one the group of criminals slid down to the ground. We were now in a forested area used as a local park. We knew that an escape wasn't going to happen, these guys were bloodthirsty, and we couldn't just leave them to be slaughtered, who would we buy shit from?

Cruz directed us around the building and we soon found that the Cartel members were still waiting on us to come out. Great we had the element of surprise. I wanted to plan an attack but the Mexicans would have none of it. They charged at the Cartel gunmen relentlessly and the neighborhood was thrown into chaos. See the Cartel members had silenced heavy powered weapons. The ones the Mexicans used could be heard from their homeland. It did nothing for the community which screamed as one car that was trying to get up got stuck in the violent crossfire, the whole car soon filled with bullets the occupants never knew who hit them. The gunfight ensued and after 9 of the 16 by my own count cartel members were down a tan Shafter screeched up behind me.

Thinking quickly I turned around and shot at the car wildly until I could spray a few good burst at the front right side of the vehicle. I felt a cool sense of satisfaction as the car swerved into a parked car sending the passenger in the passenger seat flying. Two fellow cartel members came out the back and I fired at the one on my right shooting up his leg before I got a few good bullets to his stomach. The other hostile Hispanic took cover and I couldn't get a good shot. I was about to close in when I saw Tank somehow manage to sneak behind the man and stuff him with lead.

A few dead cartel members later and the gunfight was over. The civilians outside were either dead, cripples, or relocated to anywhere but here. We suffered a few losses on our side but for the most part we were fine. Tank and I suffered no damage; we were one lucky sons of bitches. While Tank went back to his car to see if it got shot up any Cruz approached me.

"Good shooting back there friend, Kareem right?" The Mexican said reaching out to shake my hand. I gladly shook it, graceful that it was over without incident to me or Tank.

"Yeah, good shooting with you." I said sarcastically the Mexican didn't catch it though.

"Well if you ever need something a little under the table our kind of work type things, you know what I mean then we can work with something. I might even call you to do some work for me. We work together too." The Mexican said in sloppy English and he commenced with him giving me his number and me giving him mine. Tank and him said their farewells and Cruz and his remaining partners in crime grabbed some cars to flee the crime scene. A few seconds later of looting and Tank and I were gone too. The police zipped right passed us. Trying to keep my mind off my recent killing I turned up the music to maximum volume. I Wish You Would produced by DJ Khaled and killed by Kanye West and Rick Ross played as Tank sped through the seat wobbly, 6 AK-47s, a few disconnected silencers, 700 dollars, three 9mms, and two Uzis sitting in the backseat.

_An hour later… _

"Yeah you say you're from Roderick. We got your shit right here." A middle aged white man said setting a large flat screen TV down on the counter.

"Guess that's it then." I said giving the man 300 dollars. We still had a good 30 dollars from Rod plus the money we stole from the Cartel.

"Whats your name friend?" The middle aged man asked and I decided I couldn't be too careless.

"Chris." I lied and shook the man's hand, waiting for his reply.

"Names Mr. Jennings. Come back anytime!" The store owner said as I began to lift the TV up.

"1,2,3." I said as we lifted the unboxed TV and started to lift it out of the store and into the lightly damaged Blista Compact, it was a hard fit with all the weaponry in the way.

It was such a quick exchange I was surprised no snipers or robbers were trying to make moves on us. The ride back to the restaurant was quick and easy. Before we got in we split the rest of the money up. Lifting the TV inside the restaurant we were surprised to see a naked Monica and Roderick going at it on a table that I reminded myself never to sit at. Their moans of pleasure triumphed over the bell that rang when we came in. It was only when we set the TV down and I clapped my hands twice did the two stop and look at me embarrassed. Monica rushed to put her clothes on.

"Hey don't stop now if you're still in the mood, Rod ain't shit." Tank cooed at the light skinned lady. I swore I would never know how my bro got such a nice piece of ass. It was incredible the short seconds I viewed it. She definitely went for a high 7.

"Yeah go fuck yourself; I'm sure you and my brother had a lot of fun. Why the fuck did yall take so long?" Roderick asked as he put his boxers and pants on, not the prettiest site.

"Well while you two were off to bone town me and Tank were fending off the Mexican Mafia. Brought back a fucking armies worth of hardware, and your reef." I said and both the employee and the employer stopped in their tracks.

"What the fuck Kareem? I just asked you to pick up some weed and you're putting caps in people. Those caps just happen to be the people who I owe money to. You still haven't told me why the fuck you're here yet!" Roderick roared and a long silence followed.

"You want me to explain then take me to the house." I said and the chef nodded understanding. He gave all the working orders to Tank who still on the clock since he left. It was dark by this time and the dining area was clean. Tank and I had set the TV by the door.

In dire need of some quick R&R I swiftly took my bags out of the closet, shaking them off due to the roaches that took refuge there. Roderick and Tank helped me put my bags in Roderick's Vincent. After Tank agreed to lock up Roderick took the driver's seat. Once we had rode on in complete silence for a few moments I decided that a silent trip wouldn't prove to be an informative one.

"Rod what the fuck was that back there?" I asked referring to the sex scenario with his employee. It would definitely not look good on his managing record.

"What you mean?" Rod asked as we coasted through a neighborhood I remembered being called DEF. Back then it was just a bunch of street gangs and historically black college attending outcast college students trying to fuck shit up. Times have changed in the time I was gone I thought as we passed a crime scene that involved three body bags, two of them too small to fit an adult.

"The fucking is what the fuck I mean." I said mildly getting back to our current conversation.

"She's my employee; she's special though. All my employees are special." Roderick said in a somewhat reflective like tone.

"So you care for Tank like that?" I jibbed and Roderick couldn't resist the smirk.

"Shut up but no Kareem seriously. There's a reason my restaurant is doing so good." Roderick said and I could tell he just wanted the conversation to be over.

"So you make weed brownies and sprinkle angel dust on your burger meat?" I said stating the most probable under the counter business.

"Kareem those girls you saw working for me were prostitutes, and I'm there employer. Those girls outside work for me too, the less prettier ones." Roderick revealed and a realization came over me. I had killed around five pimps for paper, Layne Maybe being the only one I killed for my own safety. They were hated people. A lot of young girls got pulled into the trade and got killed along the course of their career. One day some customer might fall in love too quick and try something rash, something lethal all for the love of a lowly whore. It was sad really, the whole trade, I had seen all the sides of it except the commanding side.

"What about Tank? Please don't tell me you got business on both sides." I asked but I was pretty sure it didn't work like that. Tank was one solid dude. Oh and then there was that corner prostitute, who he flirted with. That settled it he wasn't some crack addict trying to make his dad mad. Maybe he was a gigolo.

"I still have a few morals brother. Tanks my muscle, he checks on all my assets. The dishwasher Ralph and our other cook Azibo do the same thing. They rotate by the day. I would have gone with him but I wanted to keep this secret." Roderick said as he drove the car beside a curb that fit in place with a medium sized faded yellow house that was preceded by an unkempt lawn.

"Is this your house?" I asked though I hoped this was just an "employee's" house.

"Not a house brother. This is our home."

* * *

**STELM: **_**Ok good long ole chapter. Like I said previously when the stories starts flowing good the chapters will be shorter. Ok time for the parody and reference list.**_

_**As far as SK's family there based off of my family. SK is basically me if I grew to be a professional killer. Elizabeth Houston is my late great grama. Houston is my mom's maiden name (I might have told you that previously if not now you know). Roderick is a friend I consider a brother (I only have half-brother and half-sisters no full blood siblings). My mom and dad who are still alive now are deaf so SK's parents (him being a criminal presentation of me) will be that same way.**_

_**The people in the restaurant are based off of the people who work at my former workplace (my grandpa's restaurant Houston's Low Country Grill (it closed down recently)). Although to my knowledge none of the people who worked there were prostitutes or killer and Roderick would take place of a would be successor to my granddads restaurant (if he didn't close down). **_

_**Crescenta is based off of Columbia and surrounding areas. The name routing from Columbia's nickname, Crescent City (which was the original name for this story). Marian is based off of Atlanta, Marian coming from Georgia being owned by some guy named George. Marian in turn is being named after some woman named Mary. Garrisville is a mix of all the rural areas of both South Carolina and Georgia (it was either Garrisville, Garrisboro, or Garrisburg and well, you see who won… (tupac verse)). I could imagine if this was a real game it would cover up the most piece of map. Last but not least Hentown which is based off of Myrtle Beach, Charleston, and Savannah. Mostly Charleston, which was named Charles town originally. Like Marian, Hentown is named after an old English noble named Henry.**_

_**Funkin Screw is a Metal Harbinger creation (I believe) based off of Mountain Dew. HoodWinked is a TV show based off of Punk'd. Plugged Up is a store that I plan on using in the early stages of my story. Dud Light is based off of Bud Light and was created by Metal Harbinger. DJ Rap Harbinger is a spoof of you guessed it Metal Harbinger. I'm surprised nobody's hasn't jumped on that yet. His rant was quite normal for an uncensored DJ. Chirpster is based off of Twitter. It took me allot of deciding not to pick Twatster (which would have been my sexual innuendo). The verse is from the song She Solves All Problems which describes Juicy J's weaponry. **_

_**(STELM Urban dictionarying)**_

_**Sticks and choppers are nicknames for AK-47's and fully automatics. Slick is a word a lot of people from the south use to describe something. It's kinda like a staple word, like stupid can be used in a sentence (it's stupid hot, she's stupid bad, I'm stupid high). Schemin' is basically when a person is planning on doing something.**_

_**Ex. You're walking by yourself and you see a large group of dudes looking at you wrong. They may not jump you but you can tell that they are scheming. **_

_**A girl keeps trying to get you along, she's scheming to…well you know.**_

_**OG Bright Ballas is based off of G-Shine Bloods. Naluba is a fictional river based on the Saluda. In SC Riverside Goons is a Kin Nation set that works mostly in the Charleston and northeastern part of SC. G-Shine runs a lot of Columbia. Kin nation is Folk Nation's GTA counterpart and Nuluba Riverside Goons is based on the pre-mentioned Riverside Goons of SC. MOB is a Liberty City based gang (Money Over Bitches). Most Blood sets like to copy off of each other, Piru's being the original (shots out to Afro Spirit's city). Dixie Mafia one of the only southern Italian Mafia that has a substantial record. They aren't connected by their nationality, their only connected by their search for the almighty dollar. Cartel de Costo is based off of the Gulf Cartel. El Linaje is based off of the Atlanta based Los Familia Latino gang. **_

_**The whole thing about SK being surprised that he didn't see tanks patrolling the streets was based off a TV show I was reading about Compton one day (another shout out to Afro Spirit). **_

_**Ok that's it, next chapter will be shorter and will have a clear goal, Have to do some late summer reading so it might take a week but I'll definitly get done. O and congrats to all those athletes showing how athletic america is (lol). Oh and READ and Review. Jeez I need a catchphrase. Might throw some ideas out there next chap.**_


	4. Wake and Kill Two Twin Snakes

**STELM: Ok a set piece chapter for SK. Real flexible guy. Crime never escapes him, it seems. That and it because this is a GTA STORY BITCH!**

**Ok now that that's over, on to the (only 1 come on guys) review…**

**Native Gunz: It might be my yunginess that makes me say that (pussy is pussy…). Yah most of the positions porn stars use are meant to arouse the watcher not themselves or their partner. Then it's TRANSITION TIME! **

**But really don't we all feel like we're hitting it all the time? I got one joke for Montana Fishburne. "I think she chose the blue pill" Corny I know but that's how I like my bread (cornbread).**

**About Cruz I played a few GTA games myself and racism is really inexistent against the protagonist, mostly. Of course a few slurs were thrown at Niko (even being called white at one point) but other than that the protagonist is pretty much a regular Joe (with guns and will). For example usually an old Mammy figure (Auntie Poulet) would usually shy away from hiring Tommy maybe even getting angry at his unwillingness. I would know, my grama is always wary of the other race but then again that's everybody. Everybody is scared of the unknown starting from the time when we got used to seeing light and were told to rest soundly with light taken away from us… Ever since we decided to hunt out of our normal hunting area and found people who looked more or less like the people we were used to living with. So… yah race might be a back drop to this story but not much a factor. Mexicans aren't that racist here, of course they have their own little cliques in my high school but they mess with everybody really.**

**SC's first gang that is still recognized today is probably KKK. I can give open testimony that Bloods down south are real, SC and definitely Atlanta. Though Bloods and Folks have their own little treaty rules they still shootout, so that treaty really is treated like shit, but it was worse. In GA I don't believe a treaty stands. They just wild out on each other. **

**IDK about NY bloods I've only been their twice to see my brother (who moved back down) and my Grama (who's still there). Most G Shine niggas make their own rules and stacks (finger signals). For example they got a way to fold their flag (while folks usually wear black rosary beads), they run by a set of codes that if disrespected they get a V (violations). If you get a V (depending on how bad or big the V is) then you'll get jumped by a bunch of like gang members. I knew these twins who got jumped for false claiming (saying that you're a part of a gang you are not with) by 20 other dudes. I'm bout to get this one guy who started something because I was talking to his girl (in a normal friend level of course), he says he's a six (Folk) but he never says it around the Bloods that control our school (so I could talk to my bro (whose a folk) about it and he could get the dude jumped). So…. Yah that's that.**

**Georgia has a big melting pot of gangs (and jobs, that's why a lot of people here are moving there). We got a few motor cycling gangs but the most they've done in a long time is just run stop lights and solicit prostitution. So… yah they're pretty much sitting on their ass. But SC gangs are more about street justice and how they can do that as a movement for example a lot of SC and GA Folks Nation members will instead of swearing on 6, they'll say on BOSS (Brothers Of a Strong Struggle). My bro (who by the way is just my best friend but we are close like brothers (and we live next door to each other)) always says it and people who rep gangs associated to it will say it. **

**The Gulf Cartel is a Mexican Cartel in itself along with the Zetas Cartel and all those bad things so… Yah all crazy and power grab situation type things. Mexican Mafia might be the main antagonist in this story while GMF might be on SK's side a little bit more. **

**Aren't all pigs the same way when they're stuffed inside your trunk (I joke)? I hate them bitches they are more focused on getting drunk white boys out public areas then fighting the real crimes that go around here. For example (I've been making a lot of them lately (examples I mean)) my long time acquaintance, Nicole who just happens to be a blonde got off of a marijuana possession court without a court date while my bro got caught fighting some guy and knocked him out and had to go to through the whole court process before his charges got dropped. A more similar case involved another one of my friends who had to go through a two month DJJ type thing for possession. Both similar amounts of weed. **

**Oh and I didn't know you knew Afro Spirit like that, cool to have a Fan fiction Friend you know. Only writers I know are writing vampire stories. Sadly Vampires Choice (a free app my friend got on his Kindle Fire) changed my mind to these stories. Anyways I just skimmed your Bio and I just wanted to put my input that my ancestors had their papers (shipping and handling). :)**

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**Chapter 4: Wake and Kill Two Twin Snakes**

"You tha boss son now get yo asss up! B-b-boss get yo ass up! B-b-boss get yo ass up!" An annoying alarm repeated, and repeated, and repeated, with machine gun firing sounds playing as the background.

"Shit what time is it?" I asked as I groggily deactivating Roderick's alarm clock. It read 2:30 pm, wow I never knew anybody whose alarm clock was already set to sleeping in. Well now that most of my day has been wasted I figured I'd just spend the rest of the day relaxing. That's when Roderick hopped out the bed literally, almost causing my chest to cave in as his 14 inch feet landed on me. Damn that boy was big.

"Oh sorry bruh." Roderick said in apology as he scratched his undersides heading out the room. After I heard the bathroom door close I decided that I had to do something too. I got up and looked around at my surroundings. A grimy coloration of white was the theme for the whole room except the dark purple sheets that looked like they were from the flea market and a matching heavily stained purple carpet. The bed covered up a little less than half of the room. The rest made room for a few of my bags, a closet, and an old wooden dresser with a flat screened TV. Well at least the place was clear of the infamous waterbugs that usually invaded most southern homes.

Last night I told Roderick all of what I got into in Liberty City. A new level of respect seemed to set in between us. No longer was I the goodie two shoes who got lucky up in Liberty but the lay low figure that you may see in a western film. He then told me about his debt with the Mexican Cartel and how he could use that money of mines. He swore that he would pay m back but I doubted it. I'm no asshole, everybody has those times where the stuck in between a rock and a hard place, so I told him not to worry about it.

So figuring he'd allow me my rest today I flopped down on Rod's bed putting my feet on my former resting place, a spare mattress he had "laying around". Finding the remote I turned on the TV which was already tuned into SHN, the South Harroline news station. So I let it go on while I drank the remnants of a bedtime 40 oz I had last night.

"It was late last evening yesterday when a Cartel related Drug shootout took place." A blonde woman said standing in front of the neighborhood me and Tank "visited" yesterday, "One once notorious Jaybul neighborhood in Crescenta was caught in the crossfire. The police report 5 civilians dead, four other critically injured. The fighters themselves were reported to be mostly Hispanic in origin while there were two African American men in company who escaped the scene. Arrest have been made but the whereabouts of the two African American men is still processing This is yet another terrible Cartel related shootout that is predicted to continue. If you have any information please contact your local police department. Back to you Emily and Jason." The crime reporter said and the image switch over to on male and one female News host.

"Coming up the search for the dubious SK is still in the making and authorities continue to search baffled at how such a public person eluded his peers to his whole name. The search in itself has moved to both Beanton and Alderny, the people of SH can sleep safe knowing that the madman has been quarantined to the north. This is South Harroline News more news when we return." The female host said and the camera faded out followed by commercial. It felt good knowing that the state you were in wouldn't be looking for you. I changed the channel as the commercials droned on and I started to watch a political show that was focusing on the issue of Medicare. I left the room as soon as I heard one of the white republican host say to a guess say in a tone that could be confused with sarcasm, "Why don't we just put all the black people in chains again? If they can't afford it they should get a better job."

"Classic South Harroline TV." I said as I walked through the house's hallway. As I walked into the living room I looked outside, life was normal outside. Nobody really outside except people who had just left the Gym that was down the street.

Figuring I had to at least pretend that it was morning I got some eggs out of the fridge. Great there were two more, good for another occasion. As I began to crack the eggs I got my chef's bearings. The kitchen had a brown tiles and green counters. The laundry room was located to the left of the stove and to the right of the sink. Both of the basic kitchen elements faced the wooden table with a mix of plastic and wooden chairs. I remember this table from my late Great Grama's house. He must have taken it out of Mom's storage after she passed.

It seemed that that's not all Rod took from Great Grams. His seasoning cabinet was stacked; I opened another cabinet to see that it contained only original Grits and Creamy Wheat's. Just like the south I knew as a kid. Grits, grits, grits, and Creamy Wheats.

I got out a few different spices and other accessory ingredients like ham and bacon. With eggs as an exception Rod had a stacked kitchen. Guess the criminal economy is doing good for him, real good. It seems that this life made life good for a lot of people, that was until some psychopathic mobsters decide to blow you sky high while you're sleep. I could only imagine the crazy things that could happen to Roderick and me. The Mexican Mafia were almost the least of my worries about now. I could have FIB agents at my door at any second.

The fact that as soon as I thought that I heard a knock at the door. I wanted to go back to the bedroom to grab my Uzi but figured it would be better to just take whoever was at the door. So as I cautiously approached the door I felt all sorts of silly seeing the waitress from the grill. Guess I had to see her in a different light now. Seeing her here at the front door I could definitely see her going down on somebody (me). She was a short asian, that much I saw from the hold-up attempt, but as I looked at her now she had a average if not below sized bust but had a face, what a face. She looked a little impatient as I just stood there so I quickly went for the keys that were on the table. Before I went to the door I made the move to scramble eggs around a little before I went to the door. I wanted to put on a shirt but I guess it was too late. She would have to accept me and my green Sprunk pajama pants.

"Mornin." I said trying not to look at her awkwardly. I don't know what it was but I figured she was going to thank me in some extraordinary way about saving her back at the restaurant. I was wrong.

"Roderick got you whipin babies already?" The waitress asked referring to the legal cooking I had going on in the background; I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. That would have been a cool thing to open a conversation with. I knew this woman knew what she was talking about because as soon as she spoke the scents of cannabis came to my nose. Not exactly the look of a crackhead but stoners have connections everywhere.

"Nah I'm rusty anyway." I said so I wouldn't look like a lame who knew nothing about "the life".

"Uh huh." The waitress replied looking unimpressed.

"You look better without blood on your face." I said trying my best to pass it off as a joke so the woman would remember how I saved her ass yesterday, without looking like a douche.

"Yeah thanks. It does wonders for my complexion." The waitress said sarcastically in a valley girl accent before moving past me and into the living room where Roderick just entered.

I went back to my cooking and Rod and his employee talked about some payment issue. He called her by the name June. Now I'd know what to call her. Depending on what I wanted to call her for. As soon as the eggs were done I went in the living room to join them. Their previous conversation stopped and I figured it would be rude to just sit there and eat without starting up a new one.

"So what's on the hit list tonight, commander. Want me to get into another gunfight with the Mexican Mafia? I love being the star of the SH underworld already." I said sarcastically as I mouthed a forkful of scrambled eggs.

"Oh shit that was you and Tank wasn't it? Those beaners don't give a fuck. I got a dealer who slings under them. Their operations are tighter than a nun's pussy." June said adding her insight to our situation, in the form of telling us that we were basically screwed.

"Well if you still want that good shit you better not cross. Remember Emily?"Rod said and June let out a long distressed moan. This was something she had probably heard thousands of times.

"Yah yah. As soon as she left to work for some Kin Nation goons she got hacked up by some crazy guy." The stoner said and Roderick beamed.

"That's right I take good care of you girls. You don't even know." The pimp said proudly withdrawing about triple dime pack of weed (just by eying it) from his pocket. Damn it looked like some high quality shit now that I looked at it a little closer as June examined it thoroughly smelling it herself, I could smell it from my seat. That's what kept this Asian persuasion coming back for more.

"Thank you daddy." June said with exaggerated enthusiasm as she got up and started for the door. I followed her out. Needing to drop off my plate anyway.

"Oh shit." June said before a Mexican man came out the laundry room holding a handgun. Luckily I hadn't been completely in the kitchen and the Mexican didn't notice me tip myself back into the living room. The sounds of the perverted reality show Cougar Isle masking the sounds of my footsteps.

"What's that June?" Rod asked getting up. I motioned for him to get his gun.

"Oh just dropped my keys." The asian woman said as if this was just a normal thing. In reality she was being held at gun point. I would have been shocked but I had been at this for a while and this could get really messy at any second. One sound and June would be no more.

I then took cover position behind a chair. I wouldn't be shit without a gun but I could still get the jump on him. I peeked out of the cover to see that June was still stationary. It wasn't long before the man had her in a hostage lock. Deciding I couldn't let him get past the living room I decided to take action.

"Freeze bitch!" I yelled in a loud and overlord like. Almost immediately the Hispanic pushed June away and ran to take cover supposedly thinking I was armed and dangerous. Knowing I'd have to get June outta here I got out of cover and grabbed June, almost carrying her to the cover the hallway provided.

The Hispanic started firing as soon as I got in cover. The tension showed on my sweaty bare torso. Fuck, where was Roderick? A few minutes of me poking my head out of my cover to see if he had advanced later my half brother came out loaded. Two AK-47s and two pistols. The pistols being strapped to his hip. He looked like a black Donny Fortuna. All jokes aside we could definitely take this one guy. That conquistador flag was hung high… until the door busted down revealing the gunman's partner in crime.

"Get the fuck down!" Another probably Hispanic man said breaking Roderick's side door. Simultaneous with the break in Roderick tossed me a stick and handed one of the pistols to June. I guess this was the final standoff.

"How do you like me now you bean eating fuck!" Roderick said angrily as he pointed his chopper at the Hispanic. Then it clicked to me, I knew that face. I worked with that face.

"Dame? What the fuck are you doing here?" I said not lowering my gun for anything.

"Fucking white bitches. What the fuck you think idiota?" Dame said not lowering his gun either.

"SK you stupid polla!" The original assailant said coming out his kitchen cover. I recognized the man as Lass, Dame's twin brother. I had worked with the twins about five times in my dealing with the Vasquez family, then thrice more afterwards. Good men, but they would work for the devil if he asked him to. Guess we weren't to unlike.

"You know these guys?" June asked her weapon was still raised, along with the rest of us.

"Yah these guys worked with me when my ex-family was trying to connect with a prominent Mexican drug dealing family." I said remembering the golden days. They seemed like so long ago.

"Yah it was mostly us dragging his unconscious body." Dame jokes, he was never good at those. That situation happened once in some treaty signing gone wrong. I took the brunt of the fire so I blacked out when the pain became too much. Those were in my earlier days.

"Well I've saved both of your asses on multiple occasions. Remember that time we robbed that Cherry Popper factory and you two got caught up filling your bags and I had to cover you're asses when I could have easily hauled ass and gotten my pay." I explained and the favors seemed to be evened out. The Mexican duo decided to call it fair and Roderick put his two cents in.

"So what you gonna do? Shoot us?" Rod asked clearly ready to mow down the twins in one burst.

"Well we were hired, but it'd feel wrong to kill a good old pal like SK." Lass said setting his gun down on the floor so, his twin brother followed as a sign of peace. We held onto ours, hey they were on our home court, we couldn't be too careful. Plus staying on our side would just mess up their deal with the Mexican Mafia. Something very very bad could happen in the future, with our debts to the Mafia (Rod's, the twin's, Tank's, and me) over our heads we might not see next month.

"Well that brings the problem of the Mexican Mafia. Meaning we can't go back to Liberty where the Costo Mafia just sat up shop nor can we move out of here." Dame brought to the groups attention. Seems like we were all fucked.

"Hold up if the Mafia sent you to kill SK then what about Tank?" June asked then Rod got up thinking of the worse. We all were.

"Oh you mean the companion that was with SK. Sorry to say that our mission where supposed to be completed at the same time. A Costo family execution style and function." Dame said looking a little solem even the twins only saw Tank as just another mark. It was that state of mind that most killers used to get through the day without pulling their own cord.

"Well that leaves one thing to do." Rod said running past everybody going into the front kitchen door. Everybody else followed and Lass herded us into the twin's professionally enhanced landstalker.

In less than eight seconds the truck hit 60 and we didn't slow down from there, weaving between traffic. Rod insisted under gunpoint that he drive. Lass eagerly showed all of the cars speed enhancing gadgets. The vehicle was pumped with so many different Illegal enhancements that if there was a body building competition for trucks this one would when hands down. The speed was heart beat raising quickly by the motion and nausea threatened to become a factor. The world seemed to just pass by in a blur. I can't tell you how fast we got to Tank's apartment building but we knew it was his when we got on its street.

The scene was almost poetic. Except nobody here was quoting Shakespeare. The hood going crazy. A shootout was the norm but to see homes destroyed was a different thing, a new thing. Children ran this way and that to tell the neighborhood what was going on. Tank was on the sidewalk talking to some Firemen who arrived on the scene. He looked at us with the bloody murder eyes. It was scary seeing this side of Tank, but his overall glare was so menacing it was hard to do more than just stare blindly at the flaming apartment building. I guess me and Tank had more than a bounty on our head, we now had both of our home's burned by organized crime. Except his may not have had all the bells and whistles that mine's had, but then again all wood burns to ash.

"Rod, I don't want to hear your shit. I'm staying the night till further notice." The giant said solemnly and seriously before setting the mattress up on the roof of the truck assisted by me. I felt sorry for the man. He lost his everything today. As we pulled off the police sirens sounded far behind us. I heard several excited screams as the apartment building's structure failed and

The ride back was so silent that if a mouse ejaculated you would be able to hear its jizz hit the floor. I know that was a weird way to say it was really quiet but hey when the ride there was so quick you'd think we'd be back home ten minutes ago. As soon as we got there Tank threw his mattress in one of the rooms that was furnished with great grama's bunk bed she let people sleep in whenever they visited.

Later that evening the twins asked if they could stay over until the heat cooled down and Rod agreed, through my persistent persuasion. They decided to sleep in the vacant bunk beds. Dame got the top, he was the oldest by a few seconds, and he always made people remember it. Before Rod, June, and me went to sleep (and go home in June's case) we made a makeshift repair to the door with the help of a few of Rod's boys from across the street. We smoked the long day off and hit the hay saying goodbye to June. It felt good to have some sort of a makeshift team now.

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**STELM: So… nobody actually died in this chapter but all's good. Next chapter will be his ACTUAL mission, promise. If you hadn't notice by the pass 3,000 words I just typed, this story even though still revolving around SK, is going to be a team story. Of course there will be missions that SK can handle himself, other missions might require teamwork. So as to say SK can probably do a drug running job solo, taking out a high ranking gang member might require physical and radio assistance, and a drug or bank heist may require everybody including the people who work at the restaurant. **

**The white political statement was actually said to a BLACK guy who didn't even flinch to it. I don't know about him but I would of went ape shit in that news room. That's WIS Southern news stations for you. Grits are ground up corn and are the staple of Southern cuisine. Basically it's what Rice is to Japanese people. Creamy Wheats are a GTA version of Cream of Wheats. Basically Grits with sugar, and they have a brown color. Cougar Isle is based off of the comedy show 30 Rock, the show has a TV show called Milf Island.**

**SO with that said that's the chapter, next one coming up in a few. Hope everybody is having the hellish start to school that I'm having. This is STELM, STAY SLEAZING.**

**P.S. Just heard one of my white/cherokee friends say "If you want to hear from a real nigga." (referring to himself) and I didn't realize he said it until I got home… He's "ghettorer" than me so I guess it seemed natural coming from him, said he was going to sell fake rocks to some heads… Real nigga shit. **

**P.S.S. Thinking of starting a Novelization/Creative Writing Club. **

**P.S.S.S. Just finished my first competitive 5k for my team. I was too dead tired to look at the clock but the guy one my team who was just a little bit further than me told me he got a late 23, so I'm guessing on a low 24. Shouts out to the only public school there (us). **

**(Edit on P.S.S.S - I placed 131 out of 325 and my time was 24:07.07. Would have been a low 23 if I didn't get a cramp during the third K...)**


	5. Over-I-Dose

**STELM: **_**Yes my fellow partners in (reading about) crime. A lot has happened since I left off (like a whole cross country and Marching band season, which for some reason end on the same week). I got Mass Effect 3 and NBA 2k13. Waiting on the Assassins Creed 3 but don't know how to pay for it. I got my ass kicked in slapboxing with some guy (he was 21 and Folk) while high. So I kind of have an excuse. Well anyway time to do some replying to some reviews!**_

**Native Gunz****: **_**Yah a lot of shit we are taught is bullshit. I mean the basic shit that's been taught in the past. They can talk about 911 for years but you kill out a culture, take one culture away from a people then bomb a few islands and it's all good. It's sad that two buildings destroyed is more important to America than the dozens of cultures it has destroyed to become what it is now. No hate for it though. America keeps bugs out my house and food on my table, a step above a few other governments. They also are responsible for GTA…the reason we are here today.**_

_**I guess it's time for me to come to of the political closet. I am a Democrackhead myself and figure if I'm going to do anything and make money it should be helping the people that I grew up around (having their best interest in mind).**_

_**Dummy rocks were the term that was used but all I know is that if someone pulls something on that man then there's going to be some slow singing and flower bringing when…**_

**Afro Spirit: **_**Yah Tupac was raw with his lyrics. Keeping Nuclear weapons ready to fire cost twice the amount of money that Republicunts bitch about with welfare.**_

_**You'd be surprised but Florida isn't considered southern in most circles even though geographically it is the most southern state in the east coast. Not too familiar with Zoe Pound but I'm still young there a lot I don't know. **_

_**Yah I see what you mean with the gay rights thing. Tosh.O kind of made me think that it was a shelter for Gays or something. But places like Compton and Watts don't show that gay friendly persona.**_

_**Uuhhh I'll try to put as many gangs based out of SC as possible. What I've got planned will involve a lot of gangs against one major power trying to take control, but that's for later.**_

_**I mean I was born to the Amerikkan flag so I guess I never really thought about it. But then again that same flag keeps me doing hella lot better than a lot of people overseas. It's a fucked up system not just in America but all over the world (one that I haven't been able to explore quite yet but you just wait). **_

_**I made Rap Harbringer as my own entity. A contrast to the Metal Habringer. That and I ran out of interesting DJ names. He will however feature in a chapter in the near choppers and sticks are fully automatics. Sticks referring to the wood on a AK-47.**_

_**I never really thought about actors for my characters. All the people who worked with me at my granddads restaurant are models for my character. I don't really watch a lot of movies myself so I don't know too many actors by name. Debo is a good example. Except with more of a 5 o'clock shadow.**_

_**Alright I might have made that a little complicated. I am talking about the Los Familia GANG (prominent in Atlanta) whose numbers have dwindled due to Mexican MAFIA (the one that orginates from mexico and dues business deals in America) EL Chapo type Mexican mafia. Scarface if you want to delve into fiction. **_

_**Yeah my bro and a hella lot of the niggas at my school and around where I say boss (rep and or bang Folk Nation). Matter fact I got my ass kicked by one a few days ago (slapboxin of course I don't really beef like that), another one said he got me and my bro (in a good way), cuz he's a hi up. **_

_**My real older bro went to Morehouse and he loved it. If I go there I'll have an advantage because a few other people in my family went there and the college is trying to form a legacy. Morehouse men are pretty popular down here.**_

_**The place I get my hair cut at is right beside that gas station (that got shot up) It's been repaired now and violence kind of relocated to other places in Columbia now. **_

_**I did see the video though, crazy shit. I usually get all my news from Comedy Central's Colbert report so I get the full story. So many news channels are biased. Plus I love to laugh.**_

_**Oh and about the illuminati do you listen to Kanye West? His new album with a lot of his group (G.O.O.D Music) is definitely one worth listening to. Came out like in August and is called Cruel Summer. A lot of people say Kanye West is in the illuminati but he and a few of his group mates committed a whole song to dissin the illuminati. Shits crazy. If you going to look up any of the singles look up New God Flow. If you like a song with meaning and a beat then merry October the 20**__**th**__** (the day I typed this (same day my band competed in the marching band state competition and loss**__**))**_

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**Over-I-Dose**

"Wake the fuck up hijo it's fucking one already!" A voice yelled irritated followed by a firm kick to my side. I grunted in pain and looked up to see Dame shaking his head.

"Rod wanted me to tell you that the fence he sent you to a couple days back called you in and they have a job worth a lot of pay. Lass is coming to help." Dame explained as he started walking towards the living room.

"Welcome to the land of the living." Lass called out as I stumbled my way into the living room. Tank was there too. I don't think Rod gave him too much trouble about going to work.

The TV was on and beer cans littered the floor under the table. On the table itself were a few pills that definitely didn't have the FDAs approval, at least not for Tanks consumption. For some reason a fight with a recently "evicted" man whose nickname was an armed vehicle didn't sound too appealing so I left it alone. He was knocked out anyway, probably would wake up insane or something.

"So Lass I here you're coming with me on this one." I said in the most cliché like way possible. I swore I've heard the phrase in dozens of movies.

"Yah I know a little bit about fences myself. They usual hire people to jack some other fence or get some new goods so they can sell it for cheap, whereas the original product would probably cost more than they're paying you. Depending on how pricey this new tech is the price might go up. If you want me to dumb it down the more we steal the more we get paid." Lass said as he popped some of Tanks spare pills, probably not the first time, his voice got more erratic as he spoke. He then continued to play on his laptop. It looked like he did a few improvements of his own on the modestly aged PC.

"Good let me get dressed and I'll be out strapped and ready to go." I said glancing at the TV before leaving. Republican Space Rangers was on. I surprised it still aired on national TV.

As I got into my own little space right beside Rods bed I got my stuff sorted out. My clothes almost doubled his so I had to fold a lot of my clothes under his bed, right beside his weed and ammo boxes. Not exactly the ideal position but I had to deal with it. Wasn't like I was paying any bills here, same thing mama use to tell Rod back in the day, funny how things switched and I was the one under his roof. Well me and three other dangerous criminals for hire.

I decided to go with something not to recognizable, but something that might make a fence hire me again. So I picked out a pair of red Charles Tylers, black Budda Jeans, and a denim vest with a wine red hoodie. After I finished doing all my other daily rituals like brushing my teeth and praying to God for a good day I went into the living room.

Lass whistled (seeing as yesterday I was going out in PJs), Dame ignored me, and Tank was still knocked out. After my appearance Lass packed his backpack with a few supplies and we head out. Rod still had work to do on the side door so we went out the front through the kitchen. I picked up a sausage and a slice o' bread and made myself an on-the-go sandwich, three seconds flat.

"Alright so you know where this place is right?" Lass said as we started walking to the curbside where Twin's car is parked. Rod had already left and Tank sold his car to pay for some "other things". He probably didn't even have insurance.

"Yeah it's in East Cresenta. Not too far from here. I'll drive" I said as I reached to open the driver's door.

"Oh nothing against you hijo but this is my baby I'd rather you just point me in the right direction." Lass said as he unlocked the door and in turn I sat in the passenger seat.

"Oh sorry I forgot my car seat at home you want me to get that too?" I asked and Lass chuckled but generally ignored me. I wondered how the hell Dame let him drive this thing; Lass had to be worse than me.

We rode in general silence except for the times were I had to direct the twin. Lass had some old school Spanish Fly Mexican gangster music. It was pretty dope if I do say so myself. The raw message and all. I didn't mind social silence with that playing. Anything's better than One Direction.

_1 hour later…_

We arrived at the small electronic shop that was just a front for the fence that went on behind the scenes. The traffic getting here was terrible but I wasn't worried the fence could wait. Rod didn't even give me a time so I guess the fence would just be waiting on us anyway.

We parked close to the store. I didn't have Tank with me so I didn't exactly know too much about what I was doing. I saw Lass fight up in Liberty. Hand to hand he was a good distance from a championship belt and guns to gun he was alright. The only thing he was really good at was repairing and using explosives.

Dame inherited all the wisdom. He was good at calculated executions. He had absolutely no hands when it came to combat but could shoot you from a kilometer away. I didn't see him bring his sniper rifle to the house but I was sure that it was in the car somewhere. He jacked it up himself and it worked like a charm, if only charms could kill a horde of Mafioso enforcers under the two minute marker.

Lass and Dame were both American at heart, that's probably why they joined our side. Not the most traditional types you see. They hardly spoke their own language. Dame might use it more than Lass but still, Spanish wasn't their strong suit. Money talk is all they understood; if their color helped that go smoother then they had no problems.

The electronic store wasn't too much to look at. In bright neon it read Plug it up! There was a goon outside smoking a cigarette. The last time I was here I really didn't get a good look at the store. I was too torn by the intense battle I had just been involved in. PTSD does things on ones concentration.

Inside the store rows of used and new headphones, cell phones, MP3s, video games and systems, Apple Products, and some audio systems made the stores considerable bulk. Basically everything that a computer geek or normal teenager would want.

The floors were carpeted, but heavily stained from years of wear and tear. The shelves were made out of black plastic stands. Heavier things were sat on wooden tables. The place was moderately populated. The population consisting of people of all colors and sizes. I gave the people that passed me the ole southern hospitality nod and went about my business.

Lass and I made our way to the cashier and we told her we were looking for the owner. She told us to go to a small office in the back. I expected to see the middle aged man I saw before. Instead I saw a much younger man with a five o'clock shadow and shaggy black hair. He had a skinny frame and he wore a Make Cupcakes Not War shirt, blue jeans, and some Charles Tylers. He was looking out the window when we came in.

"Uhh we're looking…" I started before the man raised his hand. I figured he wanted silence. They say that the first impression is the most important. This guy didn't seem like the average geek, he had ten times the confidence. I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I know who you're looking for. My dad's not here. Don't think he'll be here too much at all. I'll be the one doing business with you, now sit down and I'll debrief you." The "geek" said and I did it without even thinking. The command of his voice, you would think a man with a voice like that would put his talents to being a gigolo, a politician, movie star, cult leader, or some sort of negotiator (suicide, hostage, price line, ect…).

"Ok so what do you want us to do for you today Mr…" Lass said trailing off. I hated when people didn't introduce themselves first.

"The suspense of the name barrier was an intended one fellow partisans of the underworld. The masses call me several names. Of all of them I prefer the name Aeolus." The geek said and it only took me a second or two to remember it. I was almost sure I'd never forget the name, I remember it being on a Mythology quiz one year. God of the winds or something, interesting.

"Well most people call me Kareem. This here is Lass." I said stating my real name. The people in Liberty knew me as SK and if I said that then Aeolus could easily connect the dots and turn me in to the authorities for a lot more money than I'd be worth to him. So I figured using Kareem would be the safest thing until I earned another nickname.

"Good now we can get the business. I assume you are familiar with the common war over territory when dealing drugs and narcotics correct?" Aeolus asked and we nodded, everybody knew how it worked. You control a block and if anybody sold on that block they were met with violent lessons in respect.

"Well then you would understand the code of conduct when producing and distributing I-doses. You see they are Binaural beats that stimulate certain brainwaves that can cause euphoric feeling. They are the narcotics of the future, my fellow gentlemen. We as partners have only scratched the surface. The military gets the good ones. As a denizen of the underworld market I have to do a bit more than radio it in to get some effective sounds. I sell in CD and the traditional style. The rarer the dose the more I sell it for. You can understand that logic, right?" We nodded again and by this time I presumed this was the debriefing he was talking about.

"Well there's this one home based dealer that has his hands on this military owned sound, potent shit trust me. The government keeps a lot of the important beats away from the public eye. I just need my inside man to get elected and I'll… At any rate he has the best sounds on this side of the south and I need it. To top it off he is selling these to customers on a regular in my territory. So it's basically already mines. He probably has everything in his computers. So that's what I need you to take. If and only if he comes peacefully, bring him along with you to me, and I'll talk to him." Aeolus concluded looking at us anxiously waiting for our answer to his interesting job proposal.

"What about the money? How much we talking about?" Lass asked. Just like him, working for the almighty dollar.

"Judging on the required amount of material needed for the normal sound dealer definitely one who deals in illicit beats and sounds, I'd say a close 10,000. Added with his other utilities probably a half size more. It all depends on the dealer. Oh and by the way if things do get hairy I don't accept bloodstained material." The doser said absolutely. I wonder what type of customers he'd see with a store motto like that posted up at the front door.

"So where does this maricone live? I'm ready to knock some heads!" Lass said energetically, A little too energetically if you asked me.

"He lives on 910 Guiro Street. Here's my number don't hesitate to call me if complications arise." Aeolus said and I put his number on my myPhone. I was sure we wouldn't need it though. We could handle some geek who gave out electronic beats to other geeks and hopeless junkies. At least I hope we could.

_30 minutes later…_

"This is it. You strapped?" I said looking at the small house that housed the dealer. The dose dealer had a lawn, brick house, and glass windows, clearly a middle class target. A good bit better off than a normal coke dealer that I'd probably be robbing now if I was still in Liberty. If we weren't trying to rob him I'd just start blasting from the windows and let fate handle the rest. However I only had a 9mm on me and I had no idea what Lass was packing. As soon as I said that I got a ring from Aeolus.

"Kareem just a heads up I'd advise you not to use guns. I highly doubt your target has anything in the way of firearms." Aeolus said sternly as if babying little children.

"Why don't we just pop him and go?" I asked thinking that it would be just that simple.

"You can't use guns because the guy you're dealing with isn't some run of the mill cocaine dealer from off the block. He inevitably works as a hacker on the side, and does a thousand other side jobs. Unless you or your friend are fluent in binary code then it could possibly take you a little while to get this right and it's hard to carry thousand dollar speakers in handcuffs. I'm sure you'll take this into consideration. Remember to call me back once he's dealt with and you are in his room." Aeolus said and I could hear his excitement. He was about to get a lot of money from our labor.

"Lass we can't use guns." I said as I jumped out the highly and probably illegally modified truck.

"I guess we're taking him out the old fashion way then." Lass complied as he rummaged through the stuff in the trunk. He came out with two metal bats and threw one to me. I caught it with my free hand. The other one was on my gun.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go!" Lass said as he charged for the door. I knew what was going to happen next so I charged in right after him. Lass kicked the door and it opened with little resistance. With all that electronics you'd think he'd invest in more security.

As we looked around, our adrenalin still pumping, we saw a "living room". Used electronic equipment, opened boxes, and fast food containers littered the floor. Posters of rock bands coated the wall and the ceiling had a whole tunnel train system of cords and wires going through it. I couldn't imagine understanding to know how someone could live in a mess like this. I knew crackheads who lived better than this, only if you replaced the used electronic mouse to real ones. In the midst of all the mess there was a couch and an old box TV, the robbery just looked to be a lot less profitable than expected.

As we started to cool down we heard something. Music. We searched through several rooms before we looked in the backyard. There he was the dealer. A bald man lights skin man on the ground headphones still equipped, we could hear it clearly through the headphones. His pants looked soiled and his mouth was foaming. He looked pretty much dead so we didn't touch him. I didn't even know how somebody could die like that. I was pretty sure it had something to do with the golden rule. Don't get high off your own supply.

We went back into the house to find his room, nauseated by the sight of the dead man. Surprisingly it was the only room in the house that resembled good conditioning. Most of the wires found their way here. He had a TV, a bed, a desk with a computer, a DJs sound system, and a new age computer, a game system with games, a laptop, and shelves filled with CDs. As we browsed the CDs we found all sorts of things. Child porn, bootleg movies, hacked Japanese games, CDs labeled evidence, I-doses on CD and I-doses on flash drive; they were all here. A whole library of illegal shit. I see why Aeolus wanted this guy taken out. Seems he already did the deed himself.

"So… you calling the maricone we working for or what?" Lass asked as he started searching through the computer.

_2 hours later in the Plug it Up shop…_

"Good job gentlemen!" Aeolus said praising us as we started lifting the load of electrical equipment into the Plug it Up store.

It took us a long time to get this shit and I was ready to reap the benefits. I took a laptop for myself and Lass took a LX30. Everything else went to Aeolus. A few of Aeolus's employees helped us bring the equipment in. The word help being used loosely, it took four of them to carry one chest sized speaker.

Who knew that unplugging cords and extracting data from computers could be so tiring? I see why nerds make so much more money than the jocks and cheerleaders of our nation. In any case we worked hard enough for our money and as soon as everything was put in the storage room me and Lass waltzed into Aeolus's office proud of our work, I felt like some sort of genius, last job I went on like this was about crack, not sounds and child porn. I guess with a different city there comes different opportunities. It's probably what immigrants say when they come to America.

"So how much in electronics did we haul in A." Lass said shortening the electro kingpin's name down to a vowel.

"More than 20,000 my dearest, my dearest Lass." Aeolus said and if Lass knew basic old English (where his name derives from) he would know that the kingpin was trying to insult his nickname in a counterattack of common bilingual speech. Lass didn't catch it though; he probably stopped listening at 20,000.

"So where's our cut?" I asked noticing the empty table in front of us. I really hope this didn't turn out how I thought it would.

"It's under your chair, Abracadabra." Aeolus said and we looked under to see the money taped to the bottom of our leather chairs. After approximate examinations I saw that it was all cash about 8,000 in hundreds.

As soon as we looked up Aeolus was gone. We walked outside trying to find the electro kingpin but he completely disappeared. Guess that was his trademark. I just hope he doesn't forget to leave the cash next time.

"Well at least we got the money." Lass said and he started walking to his car. I guess that was all that mattered. The mula, cash, benjamins, fresh bankrolls.

* * *

**STELM: **_**Alright I know this isn't the high violence that you've probably been craving since SK shot that guy in the face in Harlotte. Trust me friends things will get high and mightily violent in the next chapter. I plan on reading a few of Artie's adventures to get inspiration on the chase scene coming up. Trying to make SK a more moral character then most GTA anti-heroes *coughs* Lucky…**_

_**Sorry for the long wait I wanted to get out a DCOM chapter because that usually gets the most views. This fic however has gotten a lot of attention. So fuck that fanfic that I loved so bad I know I still think about the time I had (Drake- Marvins Room parody).**_

_**The Republic Space Rangers was a cartoon that was featured on GTA IV television. Buddha Jeans are a spoof on the True Religion pants that sport a Buddha on the top back. Spanish Fly is an old rapper who is pretty dope. One Direction is a white boy band than isn't too dope. Jonas Brothers of 2012.**_


	6. Trapaholics

**STELM:**_** Ok this is the chapter I've been waiting to type for a while. Two good chase scene to liven up the story. Cruz will be a mission giver for a while but I might make him join the squad. Then again aren't two hispanics enough? PM me what you think. Maybe you think we need a few more people into the team maybe you think GTA stories are meant to be solo and only solo. **_

_**No reviews for last chapter…consider my tears jerked.**_

* * *

_**Trapaholics**_

"Dame did you get the groceries yesterday?" I asked Dame over playing Fatton 2013 with Lass on the LX30 we got from that Dose dealer. It had been three weeks since then and about a month since I left Liberty City. The past week was slow. Tank started working again, and, me, Lass, and Dame were stuck trying to find work in less than permanent ways but things were going dry.

The money given to us by Aeolus did last us for a while and a few days ago Rod was able to cook up something particularly nice. Medium rare steak, caviar, and wine were on plate and we dined like champions. It brought me back to the times when all this wasn't all that special. The elites of America were my peers, at least in Liberty City.

Yesterday we bought some more interesting games for our new LX30. The ones the Doser had were games like DJStar, RockStar, and Star Wars 9696. Now we had those games and their equipment plus NABO (North American Basketball Organization) 2k13, Motor Vehicle Theft IV, Denizens Foul: Squirrely Town, of, Fatton 2013, S.A. Noire, Alleyway Boxer, and Magnitude Force 3.

We still had about half of that money left to spend. Dame was in charge of grocery shopping for this week. I swear if he didn't have it, somebody was going to starve tonight. In any case it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

"Do I look like a housewife to you punto? These are the last eggs right here." Dame said and I cursed aloud, simultaneously Lass threw his controller on the ground as I threw a Hail Mary with the Beanton Pilgrims scoring the touchdown afterwards. Lass was using the Harlotte Showskins, and sucked at using them. Something told me he wasn't an avid fan.

"You call this football? Fucking americanos!" Lass yelled as he went to his room. I figure I had to get off my ass sometime today. Seeing as now food was in the kitchen I was going to have to find my own. I cut off the game and walked to Rod and I's room.

All I needed was my strap, some shoes, and my wallet and I was out the door. The scene outside was the basic boring old hood. A few middle school kids were riding their bikes racing down she street, weed smoke was smelt faintly in the air but I didn't see anybody smoking in the immediate vicinity, a few of the neighborhood girls were doing double dutch, and two older men were walking down the street, no doubt saying something stupid about the past. None of that however really caught my attention. What I was really focused on was the parked royal blue Emperor, with black leather seats on the inside. I hated to have to break the glass in but I knew once I got inside I could work everything out from there.

The coast being clear for the time I ran towards the car ready for anything. I hadn't jacked a car since that Liberty City episode. You know the one when the "la loro piccola cosa" betrayed me? That one. These people might come in bulk and the person who owns this car probably is strapped knowing this neighborhood. Well you know the motto, YOLO.

Three strong elbow pulses on the driver's window got the window open. I unlocked the car doors, got inside, and got to work hotwiring the car. It wasn't that hard, the older models worked for me a lot easier than the new ones. I just needed a few more seconds of wiring when I heard a shout for close by.

"Fuck nigga! On seven nigga on seven ballas!" A member of the OG Bright yelled out calling his set out. He was calling people to come and get me. If gang members were good at anything it was calling for help.

The car was just revving up when rounds started firing. I hit the gas with efficiency and I came to the conclusion that I was home free. That was until a Habanero plowed through two houses and knocked over a mailbox, driving up beside me as it traded paint with my right side doors.

"700 nigga!" I heard being yelled before pistol round tore up my back seat.

The vehicle was floored already and the truck was still on my tail. I was still knee deep in OG Bright territory for all I knew and the truck kept persistent on me shooting and my backside as I easily maneuvered past the lazy noon time traffic. We were still in a housing district and people were either running or taking pictures from a distance. I knew I could risk exposure so I fired some warning shots up in the air to get the stragglers to head out as well.

With one hand on the wheel I came up with an ingenious plan. I popped the glove compartment open and found an Uzi loaded with the safety off. Typical gang member, always with a strap at hand to shoot pedestrians from the comfort of their car.

I returned fire with my newly acquired gun and after a few burst I hit the guy on the passenger side. After turning my attention back in front of me I maneuvered my way around a Well Hung Meat truck. The driver of the OG-Bright truck collided full speed with the truck and they both drove into a small home. I could already how tense this was going to get the OGBB, but at least now I had a car of my own.

First things first. I needed to get this piece of shit washed down and cleaned up a little bit. Wouldn't be too good riding around with bullet holes. Ain't nobody had time for that

_4 hours later…_

"Car's all fixed up Kareem, switched the plates too. Nice to see you back in the neighborhood." Face, one of my childhood friends said as he threw me some official keys for the car. I didn't know how he did this in fewer than four hours but it was damn effective.

The Emperor was now a dark orange color just the one I ordered, and it looked so nice. I just hope nobody else had an eye for cars like I did. That would lead in some deadly irony except my team didn't consist of thousands of members, and I'd be screwed.

With that in the back of my mind I was still hungry. I hadn't eaten anything today. Face recommended Darcy's when I asked him and he gave me directions it wasn't that far away. The drive there was easy and smooth. The last time I drove a car like this was when I just started getting into Luigi's life as a mafia related criminal. I drove all sorts of high profile gangsters that didn't mind looking inconspicuous when they made they're moves. My driving talents were mostly used for ordering Burger Shot for them and not doing anything that would interest a police officer. Once in a while however I did get a good job where I had to see someone get capped. Good times.

When I got there I decided to check the rest of the car. I cut the car off just as Chief Keef's Love Sosa ended and started to thoroughly look through the glove compartment. I found a few Spartan condoms (gladly all of the unused), a picture featuring him and a few other bangers posted up in front of a Feltzer. It was funny how they can take picture in front of the flashiest cars but can't afford to get off the streets and do something more productive than beating up younger kids and going crazy. At least there's a meaning to my madness. Anyway the rest of the car was empty save a loaded sawed-off shotgun that was in the back seat. I hid all of my now three guns to where they wouldn't be seen by theDarcy's customers.

Inside the restaurant looked highly under patroned. There were only three other people here, an elderly man, a fat woman, and an emo teenager. The cashier wasn't even their when I got to the cashier booth. I waited for a minute or two until a teenage freckle faced redhead girl. I told her I wanted a smoothie and a Bacony Beast. It was my favorite fast food burger. It consisted of a triple stacked burger with bacon and cheese on each bun, and then wrapped around the sandwich were four pieces of bacon. It was a diabetic's distant dream.

The burger took less than a minute to "make" and the smoothie came soon after. I bid the redheaded girl goodbye and she cheerily wished me a good day. I doubt my day would be any irregular than the last few days. The monotonous life of an out-of-job gun-for-hire was suiting me just fine. That was when Cruz called me on my myPhone.

"Ya this tanks friend right. Kareem?" The Hispanic man asked and I could only wonder what he wondered.

"Ya it's me." I said unenthusiastically, my monotonous streak might just see a bump.

"Look hijo I need you to meet me on the corner of Wigglesworth and Bradstreetin Westwood. I'll tell you more then." Cruz said then he hung up, I guess that was where my travels took me today., good thing I was packing today.

I drove through early evening traffic and it couldn't be better. The police were few and far between yet this one time I wasn't trying to rush anything. I followed the traffic regulations to a T. I had to admit I wasn't too dressed for any meeting. I only had on gray sweats, a red shirt that read OSAKA 13, and a pair of red ProLap Air Foamposites. It's a shame when the laces on your shoes cost more than the rest of your outfit.

An hour later I was riding up Wigglesworth Looking for Cruz or Bradstreet. I turned my radio down, the blaring sound of Meek Mill – Flexin On Em could be somewhat distracting. I saw the street soon after I turned the music down. I pulled over to the curb; before I got out I made sure to get my niner and Mac on me. I figured the shotgun could stay in the back. That could be saved for later. I locked the door and waited on Cruz to show up. Looking around the streets looked pretty empty. That was when a thick latino accent called out to me.

"Kareem over here!"

I looked around and saw that the voice came from a nearby alleyway. Who knew getting shot at by the Mexican Mafia could make you so secretive.

"Mi amigo Kareem! How's things?" The drug dealer asked looking at me with joy; it seems he didn't get a lot of it lately. He didn't look too poor though. He had on a green golf coat, some stonewashed jeans, and a pair of Classic Semi shoes.

"Not so good man. Those Mexican Mafia fucks we capped fucked with a few of my friends. You looking to get some revenge?" I asked stating the most probable reason to call me out here. I mean who wouldn't want revenge on the people that fucked up a comfy house dealership job.

"Nah man, I ain't fuck with those fucks since they shot up my place. I'm trying keep under the radar, you know what I mean?" Cruz asked and I understood his meaning, had me and Tank not have gotten involved he would still have a house.

"Yeah I know what you mean, but if that's not what you want then what do you want?" I asked wondering what else the man would want.

"Well I know you know your way around a pistola so I was wondered if you'd return some of my merchandise. Some niños just don't understand how this game works. They work at some office downtown. Here's the address." Cruz said and he gave me a slip of paper with an address on it. His English might be good but his writing was terrible, I was able to decipher it. Before I left the alleyway the dealer reassured me, "The money's gonna be good for this one, these guys been trying to fuck me over for the longest."

I waved the guy off and figured he'd be here until I got back. He was a dealer after all; it was usually a late night job. Seeing as these guys might be armed I decided to call in a friend. I decided that the perfect man for the job would be Dame; he was calm, cold, and could assist me if I needed it.

"Yo Dame you'll meet me at 914 Loretta street downtown?" I asked Dame when he picked up.

"Uhh, fuck, I got nothing else to do. I'll be there." The hitman for hire said and he hung up. I was sure he was typing up the address to his GPS now.

_2 hours later…_

"So these maricone, how'd they fuck him over?" Dame asked as we waited across the street from the building the stoners that owed Cruz money worked at.

"From what he told me I figure they owed him money. If so then they most likely have the majority of the drugs he sold them at their house. That requires them to be abducted and for them to lead us to their house. I'm sure Cruz needs this to be done quickly or he wouldn't have asked me. If I know anything I'd know that most dealers have very heavy handed suppliers. Cruz probably has a supplier breathing down his neck, and it's freaking him out. That and the possibility that his supplier could contact the Mexican mafia about his whereabouts rendering him basically dead." I explained as I noted a well figured jogger jog past our car. Dame couldn't help but give her a look down himself.

"Interesting, you think the mob will take a few more hits at Tank, you, or me?" Dame asked and I thought about it for a while, would they ever stop?

"I'm sure they'll try a few more things before they give up. I mean you took their money and didn't follow through with the job. We have a grace period seeing as they presume you already killed me and Rod. Once they find out I'm still breathing they might try something dramatic to make sure I'm dead and ensure that the deed is published. Rod says he's trying to make something big happen to get them off our backs for good, something in the way of a big money transaction, I'm not sure though if it'll go through." I explained doubting Rods plan, large money transaction never really went through to well in the past.

"There they go! Let's go!" I said spotting the stoner trio come out their job dressed in tacky shirts and ties. They looked to be as strong as a beached jellyfishes. This was going to be too easy. Dame passed me an AK heater and made sure it was loaded just in case the nerds tried something. Dame had one of his own and we charged out our car and walked into the parking lot guns raised before the working men got to their car.

"Get to the fucking ground!" Dame yelled as he raised his gun pointing it to one of the Caucasian men who sported long red hair. He started yelling eccentrics and it only got Dame more pissed off. The tallest of the bunch did as he was told and the more middle sized man of the trio looked around franticly before he began to run. I knew shooting at him in a parking lot wasn't a smart move so I started running after him.

"They always fucking run!" I exclaimed after I threw my gun down and ran, my 9mm and Mac was still in my pocket. If anybody told you running around strapped was easy lied to you. Luckily I had my old leg muscles from Varsity Cross Country back in High school, hard to lose those things.

The man running went through an alleyway and I ran after him. Navigating through the trash and homeless trash fires was hard enough, I knew if I slipped on something stupid like tramp piss or a banana peel I would never hear the end of it.

Getting out the alleyway successfully I saw the runner go through the street nearly getting run over, twice. That's when I started to catch up to him. We went through another three alleyways and a parking lot before I was two arms lengths away from him, I could hear his ragged breaths. Right in front of us was a park. A girl scout guarded the gate but the stoner kicked her in her face, leaving the gate open and the girl crying. All my morals wanted me to stop and help her but I knew I had to catch this guy or I wouldn't be paid.

"End of the line bitch!" I said as the man realized his path led to a dead end, a fish pond. I revealed my 9 piece. The stoner turned around and after looking around for a few more escape routes conceded and got on his knees. I grabbed him by his greasy brown hair and we walked the way back to Dame in complete silence.

_20 minutes…_

"Get in maricone, before I blow your brains out." Dame said coldly as he forced the stoners into his truck. We searched them and took their wallets, they bitched about but pistol whips to the head cleared up the misunderstanding.

We kept the radio off as we rode in the car, Dame drove and I kept an eye on the workaholic trio. Every time they tried to make small talk dame threatened them with a gun and about midway through the voyage Dame blindfolded all of them, gagged them, and tightened their bindings so tight I was surprised they were still conscious.

We got their address from their phones and double checked with their wallets. I planned on selling the phones to Aeolus when this was all over. First we had to find this ganja. We dragged the trio into their house and started the interrogation, they were already crying.

"We don't know nothing man!" The tall one said, he was crying the most, rolled up in the fetal potion.

"It's not what you know it's what you have and haven't paid for. I already smell the shit around here; just tell me where your stash is!" I asked the stoners and they were resistant. That was until Dame pulled out his nina and pressed the cool steel on the redheads forehead.

"This is a gun gringo, one word; Hair-trigger." The Hispanic killer whispered and it seemed that the redhead died for one second. He made no movements, not even a blink.

"Living room closet, combination number is 19-12-25." The redhead said in the lightest voice, his friends cursed silently. All I knew was that I doubted that Dame was bullshiting them, you never knew with that guy.

We searched where the redheaded guy pointed us to and for a few while it didn't reveal itself. This place was nice, but it was so trashed you'd think they had a party here every other day. Damn stoners. Always the social ones, yet so unclean when it came to keeping things orderly. I found some spare stoning tools and some other miscellaneous electronics (laptops, Boast Beats by Master Klea, and a pretty nice camera) that we took for our own use, Aeolus bought our shit for a good cost but, I couldn't afford to sell him my everything.

Eventually after I tunneled through all that junk we found the safe. It was about the size of the back of a toilet. The safe opened like abracadabra and I found a good amount of money inside, these fucks had the money and weed, more than a few buds were left in a plastic O bag. It seems they didn't dig into their last buy too much. Who knew stoners saved up like this.

"You found the safe?" Dame asked as I came back, money and weed in grocery bags. After a little bit more searching I found a few buds of loud for myself later on. Robbing stoners was as easy as stealing candy from a sedated baby.

"Good then we can head out, their binds are still on, by the time they try some shit we'll be gone. Let's do it." Dame said as he kicked the door open and grabbed garbage bags filled with electronics. We ran out to Dame's car and he hit the gas as soon as he flipped the key over. I threw the bags in the back and we left the scene and were on our way to the workaholic stoner's workplace in under a minute.

_1 hour later…_

"Don't forget to give me my split, don't fuck me SK. Remember the last time…"Dame started warning me, about to reference a previous money transaction that happened up in Liberty. Let's just say it didn't go as smoothly as planned.

"Don't worry you'll get your quarter. Thanks mi amigo." I said pseudo-cheerily as I hopped out of Dame's truck with the safe and weed. I don't even think the balls of my feet had touched the ground before the tank like truck warped out into the distance. I walked over to my new car and looked around, hoping the OG Bright member hadn't had people follow me, but then again what gang member did you know that was that smart anyway? Well what OG Bright Balla did you know that was smart enough to get somebody to tail me?

Well anyways I threw the safe in the back, got into the driving seat and smoothly pulled out of the parking lot. I was driving towards the old meeting spot when Cruz called me.

"Yo Kareem you finished that thing I asked you to do?" Cruz asked, asking about the workaholics that had his money.

"Yeah, you want me to meet you back at Westwood?" I asked, surely this guy hadn't gotten off of his hustle so early, it wasn't even midnight. The sun had just settled down, a beautiful sunset.

"No I'm in this tattoo parlor in Westwood, not too far from where I met you at. It's down Wigglesworth, you'll see it easy. It's called Tated Tots, meet me around back you'll see a van with the store's logo on it.

"Gotcha see you there." I said as I hung up and focused on the road. I turned the volume up when I found a Based on a True Story by 2 Chainz album. I put in and felt the base shaking my bones; it was the best eargasm ever.

_2 hours later… _

I pulled up right beside the alleyway that led behind the Tated Tots tattoo parlor. I walked outside and grabbed the safe. The alleyway looked completely empty except for the store's van before I saw a young woman about two years my junior walked out off the back door. I was only a few steps away from the door.

"You're coming here for Cruz right?" The woman asked and I nodded. It gave me a moment to take in her beauty. She had an arm sleeve, but that's all I could see. She had an Italian flag hoodie with a dark denim vest, dark denim pants, and red Jons. To top it off she was a brunette with pale skin. I resisted my stares though; I tried my best to look all business.

"Here's your pay and a gift from Cruz himself." The lady said and she took the safe by both hands, put it inside, and came out to hand me a paper bag. It felt like she was some lunch lady, giving me lunch back in elementary. If only my lunch ladies in elementary school were as pretty as this girl was.

I opened the bag to find a gram of, from first smell, loud. Under it were assorted dollar bills maintained by rubber bands, trap money. I didn't trust it too much. Who knew what base heads did with the little money they had? Regarding the sum of the bills figure anything under 500 would be a crime on a criminal.

"Why couldn't he meet me outside?" I asked the pale skinned women, she smiled, what a smile, somehow I estimated Cruz's business would be booming if she was peddling.

"He told me that he's trying to isolate himself from the streets for a while, he told you'd be coming and to pay you." She said, and it all seemed so planned, how'd she know I'd ask. I couldn't ask her another question though because with that statement she turned around and went in through the back of the tattoo parlor. I stood there contemplating what moves I should make next but the full moon shining down on me told me to go back home and split my spoils with Dame. Maybe that "special" gift I might burn up with Shannon, I hadn't seen her out of the restaurant in a while.

* * *

**STELM: _Ok end of a relatively exciting chapter. Not as big as some of the other chapter I'm planning but still it wasn't that bad right? Anyway yall got a glimpse of the OG Bright gang, by the way for the this fic the number of stars gangs represent will add a two. So instead of on 5 it will be on 7, instead of six (Folk Nation) 8 (Kin Nation). You met one of SK's old friends and a new accomplice. So I feel like this was a success. Next one will be the most action packed chapter so far, promise._**

_**Before I start anything else I made a lot of this to the song Mac Miller – Lucky Ass Bitch ft. Juicy J**_

_**Alright now heres the spoofs and parodies. Fatton is a spoof on Madden, LX30s are spoofs of PS3s, DJStar is a spoof on DJ hero, RockStar is a spoof on the Guitar hero series, Gimp Wars 9696 is a parody on the upcoming Star Wars 1313, NABO 2k13 is a spoof on NBA 2k13, Motor Vehicle Theft IV is a spoof on GTA IV (the spoof of this fanfic is GVT: North Pesoline), Denizens Foul: Squirrely City is a spoof on Resident Evil: Raccoon City (politically incorrect I know), Alley Way Boxer is a parody on the Street Fighter Series, S.A. (san andreas) Noire is a GTA version of L.A. Noire, and Magnitude Force 3 is a spoof on Mass Effect series which had a terrific ending if you ask me. I give Metal Harbinger most of the credit for the video game spoofs.**_

_**Beanton Pilgrims are the Beaton football team and the Harlotte Showskins are Harlotte's football team, the redskins inspired me with the name. Speaking of football, yesterday the sprinklers came on while we were performing, stupid daylight savings time. **_

_**The thing about old men talking about nonsense is something that I wrote because I hear it on my way home from the bus all time. For example recently I was walking home and I heard these two old guys walking and they were saying that the schools teach that Moses was white but he was really black. For one, teachers can't even talk about religion in a biased or promoting way. For two, Moses was neither white nor black, he was Hebrew. It would kind of makes sense for him to be black because the way from East Africa to where the Holy City is now would require passing through Egypt, but I doubt these guys were thinking that far. On another note I hate when African Americans say that we come from pharaohs, kings, and queens (to teens). Most tribal East African Hierarchy didn't even work like that. Those who were off enough importance weren't sold to Europeans, they were killed. West Africa was way too far from the Atlantic for any slaver to try to ship slaves to America, plus Egyptians look more Arabic than black. Just a side note.**_

_"**la loro piccola cosa" translates into their little thing in Italian. For those who don't know Cosa Nostra loosely translates into our little thing. Pretty clever right? The ain't nobody got time for that was taken off a video I saw on Tosh.0.**_

_**Darcy's is a spoof on Wendy's and the bacony monster is a spoof on the baconator. ProLap Foam Posites are a spoof on the Nike Foam Posites. Chief Keef is a new trap artist from Chicago. Already he has a medium sized criminal record, a deleted instragram, and a few accusations of being involved in a murder, and he's younger than Justin Bieber.**_

**_Wigglesworth and Bradstreet are two famous American writers. Westwood is the high school my cousin goes too. That gives me 3 references to my American Lit class on this story. Meek Mill is a dope ass rapper, his new mixtape Dreams and Nightmares two was used in the making of this chapter as well as the before mentioned songs. Boast Beats by Master Klea are spoofs on the Dre Beats by Dr. Dre. Jons are a spoof on the Toms shoe brand. With that here goes hope for more reviews for this chapter._ **


	7. Rounds a Make Her Dance

**STELM: **_**Ok like I said last chapter this is going to be a biggie like the notorious. Thanks for the flow of reviews. I really appreciate it. This chapter will offer something good for you blood lusty readers. I do have to give credit to Metal Harbinger for the idea for this chapter. Same setting different story.**_

_**By the way I know I'm not the only one pumped for this new GTA V. All I know is that the three person whole idea is magnificent and I can hardly wait. BTW I made this the day before the 2**__**nd**__** trailer came out so by the time I'm done with this I might have different thoughts. **_

_**On to the reviews…**_

**Native Gunz 13:**_** Nah I didn't mean it to be more like exactly the opposite. I wanted him to be the opposite of what a geek is as far as confidence goes. So yah, he's gonna be in the next chapter so watch out, well if you like him or not. Shannon is going to be secondary. You'll see a little bit of her here too. **_

_**When you say southern Baptist preacher get turnt up you know what you're talking about. It really does get crazy. It makes going to church worth it and interesting, a whole lot better than Presbyterians (majority white).**_

_**Speaking of white guys I definitely need to incorporated them with the Dixie Mafia. Matter of fact I'll add it to my list of things to do. We'll be out of Crescenta little bit more in the future so it'll give me time to move towards the Garrisville area (some of which you'll see here). **_

_**I see the whole killing people who are affiliated with that gang all the time. It's really sad how you can blame the organization and not the individual. The organization might have something to do with the guy but it doesn't mean you have to shoot him too!**_

_**Speaking on the OG Bright Ballas I might use some of the people I know. I mean there a lot of people. Definitely since they started recruiting little kids (like in middle school) so by the time they're my age they get straps and shit. With Crips they might have a bigger presence in Atlanta then here so I might include them in a chapter in Mariana.**_

_**Shiit I only played a little of RE never finished a game because I never owned one just mooch of my uncle in law. I heard there really good, my bro says he likes them.**_

_**SK will definitely have to face these guys again, maybe in the very near future. The Kins will be more involved in this chapter though.**_

_**On the last note I'd just like to say a hella lot of people here get shot but our murder rate isn't up that high. Most people who get shot here just get sprayed at or shot in the leg. Most of it over ganja, it's big over here, kind of a cultural thing. **_

_**BTW you're Cross Fire chapter (the one I've been waiting for) has a review coming its way just you wait. The Fallout fanfic will be interesting to read too (it just came through my notifications), can't wait.**_

**Afro Spirit: **_**I said in most circles, in most of those circles the circle hasn't been out of their own county so… yah. I've been to Florida but only the big cities that's why I say that. The big cities definitely aren't southern. The state as a whole is considered more tropical than anything though.**_

_**It came from a 1,000 ways to die episode, it's very very real my friend. I've seen the chocolate rain video but if we're talking comedy I got two people (well three if you want to be technical), Chris D'Elia, and Key and Peele. Key and Peele are especially funny. They have their own TV show on Comedy central and do skits (like Dave Chappell). My favorite out of the new season is in between Damn Check that out, School Bully, and Xbox Dance Game. **_

_**Well about the Crips there are a lot of them in North Carolina, Orangeburg Sumter(aka murk city) (the spoof of that in here is Garrisville) , and in Georgia. So when we start going into Mariana and Garrisvile you'll see more of them. Crescenta (by the way I'm seeing a relationship with that and placenta) is mostly a static mediocre city. Not too much of anything. I'm more familiar and SK is more familiar. The new cities will start to be explored in the upcoming chapters. That's when the Mexican Mafia, GMF, and Dixie Mafia will start to get into this. Right now I'm keeping it to the Folks, La Familia remnant, and OG Bright.**_

_**I know who you're talking bout, looked it up its Redrum781 most dope now that I listen to it. Kurupt and all them. I mean I've listened to Dogg Pound and Death Row before just not frequently. Right now my lil bro got me listening to niggas like French Montana and Chief Keef. **_

_**About the whole YOLO and OLOY thing I would say that I'm completely in total agreement of what SK believes in. I mean me and him have different taste. I figure that makes my characters from my other characters different. If all they were all identical me then there wouldn't be any mix, just the same old stories. I mean for example Atrius (Mafia II) is more of the neighborhood boy cool type guy whereas Zuvejjet (Elder Scrolls) is the more ecstatic and Catcher in the Rye type guy. SK is the more jump down from fame and back to the roots but has still been around the rich for way too long and it has commercialized him a little. Don't worry he'll be dynamic throughout the story.**_

_**Good thing you say that I'll let out a little teaser. Just let it sit around for a while. The next chapter will definitely be up before the winter break (before the 19**__**th**__**). First I got to round out my post of different stories evenly. Back to the teaser I'll just say that something big will happen right after the next chapter. Vice City Style.**_

* * *

_**Rounds a Make her Dance**_

"Shit, Rod! Did you not pay the bills?" I accused out loud. The sink wasn't working. In between the twins, me, and him he should definitely have enough money to hold up his side of the bills. I had even started to pay for half of the electricity. Pimping and running a restaurant were responsible for the other half of the electricity and the water, Dame and Lass paid the groceries, and Tank just got out of his depression phase so I guess he's just there, being a present in his presence.

"Nah man, the…uhhh…they're working…on some shit down the street… by the park." Rod said forcing out each word, he had gotten a new ho and well, she opted for an oral exam.

I saw her yesterday when Tank and I went to the local big college football game. A particularly close encounter with the ho he was currently "trying out" at one tailgate party around the stadium got me a good deal with her. That and she remembered me from high school. Who knew one of the sluttiest girls in our graduating class was going to be a prostitute, oh wait. Well anyways with my opportunist mind frame I pointed her to Roderick. The pimp said a few sweet words and the ho decided to leave her old overseer. I was almost sure that wasn't going to end well, but oh well. We had already dodged one attempt at our lives, another one won't matter.

Her name was Celia but she went by Daisy now a days. The flower didn't describe her at all though. She rough in the sack, and wasn't at all skinny. She was probably had one of the top ten asses in our senior class if I remember the list correctly, she was number 6. Seeing it again gave me good old memories, the good ole days.

"Terrific." I said complacently as I decided to walk outside. I had on some socks, a pair of long pajamas, and a white beater. I got the mail and went inside hoping the mail would open up some new opportunities. None were found so I flopped on the couch, by myself.

Tank had gotten back to work, and the Twins went on a contract killing somewhere up in Garrisville. The contract required them to be there for a week. Knowing the twins they'd probably come back with enough money for us to relax for a month or two.

Right now all I needed was something to do, anything. After flipping through a few channels I slowly started to dose off into a complacent early afternoon nap.

_3 hours later…_

"Wake yo lazy ass up!" I heard the deep voice that could only belong to Tank say to me as he pushed me awake, almost causing me to fall off the couch completely.

"What?" I asked trying to get my bearing. The sun was noticeably lower and the room was a little bit darker. A couple weeks ago this was Tank's position. Except nobody dared to wake him up, must be his title, I needed one of those.

"Shannon and me tryna make some moves at the club. Get dressed fool." Tank said, although I'd rather it be a question. I guess I didn't have an option. Plus I haven't been to a club in a long time. I guess today was my day.

I decided to dress in a removing like fashion, just in case the private rooms showcased two different types of pleasure business. So I wore a cigar brown down vest, a black SHROoM Couture long sleeve, dark denim slim pants, and a pair of black Ultras.

I went through my other daily rituals and found myself grooming myself a little bit more than the usual. I hadn't been anywhere important in a while and this might be something to get me off the dread of living in my old city. Matter of fact I hadn't left Crescenta since I got here. It also been a good second or so since I had to use my piece, and I guessed that wait wouldn't be truncated anytime soon.

_Outside of an abandoned farmhouse in Garrisville…_

"Ok gemelo you got it. You knock out the first guard, no noise. Then you look through the building. You see something funny, radio me. Don't do anything stupid ok?" Dame commanded and Lass just nodded, in his head understanding what he had to do. It kinda got old after the eight debriefing they had in the drive over here.

They had been hired by this small time drug pusher who wanted to get a leg up on his opponents the Sandlapper Mafia. They met on one of few small communities inside the city of Garrisville called Bendover. The pusher gave us a sum of 9,000 each and we accepted it kindly. Who knew how a small pusher generated that amount of money but who cared? The twins were going to get paid.

"Go go go!" Dame said and Lass dashed out through the darkness and out of the woods. His modern suit filled with all certain types of communication and weaponry advances. All of Lass's clips were on this suit. He also had night vision and heat vision goggles. As the Hispanic got close to their target building he put on the goggles switching them to heat vision.

The area looked pretty clear other than Dame behind him and the solo guard outside. Animals were spotted out in the distance but they would probably be spooked away once the shooting started. Not now though. Lass had to be patient.

After Lass completely analyzed the area he switched his camera into night vision mode and he saw the solo guard easily. He was smoking a cig outside. Lass moved undetected through the high grass. It was cold outside and the guard wouldn't be out there all night. Other than the guard there was a van in front of the farmhouse. Lass calculated that it was meant for a quick getaway, one that they would never be able to use.

"Closing in." Lass said over the radio. Dame was ready back at the edge of the forest with a silenced sniper rifle ready if Lass failed.

Through the sniper scope Dame could see his hermano shift through the grass as he moved towards the lone guard. He saw my brother start to gain speed as he got close. Usually that would have been a detrimental action but to a dopehead it was barely noticed. A few snap fast seconds later Lass had sent a hard blow to the guard's head.

"Target incapacitated" Lass radioed in and Dame began to move into his own position. He was armed with an M4A1, with a normal sight. Dame trekked his way to the farmhouse with no need to stop. The grass was somewhat wet and it masked his movements, they would be none the wiser.

After Lass dragged the unconscious guard into the tall grass he looked up into the farmhouse window, turning off his night vision as he did so. Through the torn light purple drapes he could see a few fluorescent lights shedding light on the current production. Five men and three women all wearing bandanas, were working furiously around a crudely constructed bench covered with glassware and containers. Lass could barely make out the reading on the containers but he was 90% sure one of them said anhydrous ammonia. Bulk sized containers of paint thinner sat next to the ammonia. One the floor, there were enough broken open cold medicine packages to cure a hospital wing of the sniffles. Meth Lab for sure.

"Meth Lab for sure. Eight people handling hazardous materials, you ready?" Lass asked as he retreated from the window.

"Countdown ten secondos. Diez, nueve, ocho, siete, seis, cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno!" Dame said and Lass propelled himself through the window. He then quickly withdrew his semi-automatic M9, shooting the three women in short order, who dropped to the floor like flies. Dame kicked open the farmhouse doors and sprayed a little bit right after Lass ducked to the ground, Lass waited for the all clear

"Area secured." Dame said over the radio and the two started to check the area for anything of importance. They called up their contractor and told them the job was done and to pick up the stuff. Almost as soon as Dame hung up a shot rang out. Dame ordered Lass to guard the stuff.

As Dame stealthy tiptoed his way around the farmhouse he turned on his heat vision and scanned the area to find out where the bullets could have been fired from. He soon got his answer as another shot hit the farmhouse. The grain silo.

Seeing as the silo shooter was occupied trying to shoot at the farmhouse Dame figured he'd betoo occupied to see him coming, but then again this all seemed so phony. Why wouldn't the shooter just come up closer and kill us? Dame was answered soon enough.

A few shots answered his question. A horde of pistol wielding assailant's poured out of the seemingly innocent distance and into Dame's heat vision goggle sensors. He sprayed them down, too easy. The silo door then opened up, three shooters coming out shooting at me with shotguns. Dame maneuvered his way through the grass and took pride in his equipment. He could see them, but they were almost blind. He let them shootout their ammo at where they thought Dame was until the gun for hire decided enough was enough. He rejected a few short burst from his speed heater and the shots found there mark, headshots.

"What's going on hermano?" Lass asked in the radio alarmed until he heard somebody drive up to the farmhouse.

Lass ran up to the front of the farm house seeing that there were two vans outside unloading gunmen out the back, each van had gunmen come out the front seats. Lass shot some bullets at the first van's front seat. Four bullets and Lass checked the two front seat men out. Three gunmen came out the 2nd van and the gun for hire shot at them as well. The first to went down the last one took cover. Firing blind sight bullets at him as Lass was forced to take cover on an overturned table back at the farmhouse. Lass reloaded and waited on the gunmen to start flooding in.

A group of seven gunmen ran into the farmhouse, and Lass almost let out a laugh at their coordination, or lack thereof. They looked around quizzically wondering where the wily Hispanic was. That was when Lass started to peek from his cover and highlighted three of the gunmen. The three shots came right after each other, a quarter of a second separating them. They went down without a fight and their four friends went for cover but they were too late. Lass climbed over the table and fired at the fleeing gunmen. Three more went down as Lass got them in his sights.

The last one began to fire at Lass while backing up to the van. He probably meant to escape. I moved out of his line of sight to the edges of the farmhouse. That's when Lass heard the country bumpkin start his cowardly run. Lass began his chase but some automatic rounds made him let go. Dame had got him.

"You got it over here baby hermano. Seems like you had a little trouble." Dame said laughing as he walked in.

"Fucks thought they had us! Fucking dead!" Lass said energetically high fiving his brother violently, disregarding his insults. They had just scored a lot of money with this job. Dame himself couldn't wait to get back to Rod's house and spend this money on more guns and maybe a nice drink at the Mexicano bar.

_**A popular club named Crush Gentleman's Club, Crescenta**_

"You boys have fun. I know a girl here who can grab ones with her snatch." Shannon said with the energy of a fourteen year old finding his dad's porn stash breezing by the lightly crowded strip club.

Tank followed suit and I took the time to look over the club to see what I was dealing with. It was hard to think with the subwoofers had my heart nearing an attack, Bands a Make a Dance by Juicy J was playing. A song fit for the club, after looking around at the "performing girls" doing a mixture of twerking and erotic pole dancing I decided I was going to get a drink. Just to loosen me up.

After blowing back a few shots I moved through the room with a little bit more clarity, or lack thereof. The speakers were wailing out Dj Khaled's Bitches and Bottles. One of the strippers had just taken off her thong on stage. It didn't matter though. The thong was just a set piece to an even greater masterpiece. The ass here was terrific and after a while I got to see the snatch dollar snatch maneuver Shannon was talking about.

I lounged for a while, the employees were outstanding. I sure as hell didn't see shit like this in Liberty City. Fuck white girls, these bitches were all I needed while I was down here. I threw more than a few of the ones I brought with me in a rubber band and knew I wasn't going to leave without a private dance. So I got up from the purple round couch that gave me a good view on the stripper stage. Girls were walking around strutting out their assets (emphasis on the first three letters), and I couldn't pin-point one certain girl, there were so many. Eventually one came up to me.

"Hey boy. You were looking all lonely over their sitting on shots. How would you like something more entertaining?" The stripper asked and the fact that she approached me was a stroke of good fortune. Then again this was a strip club and she was going to get paid. It made me feel better regardless.

I nodded my head stupidly and she softly seized my hand and I trailed her with 0 resistance. My goggling eyes following her bare ass more than anything, when I say it was poking, I mean poking. Itwasn't the only thing that was poking. I found myself already erect on my dark denim slim pants, seems like that wasn't the best idea, but hey, I had nothing to hide.

We traveled through the crowd and I couldn't help but observe my surroundings. The size of the dimly red lighted club was astonishingly big. There we go with that word, big, it didn't help my situation that the slim denim pants weren't meant to walk for long, definitely not with a loaded package. The poor ventilation was another problem as we trekked to the back rooms. The air was Aunt Jamia's Rum Cake thick with conversation, weed smoke, and sweat. The sign outside said cigar bar, I doubt the security guards minded, I mean this was South Harroline.

As we closed in on the several back room rooms blood rushed through my body. I had been on a roll lately, first Celia now this random stripper. I held myself from my troglodyte minded lust (which including fucking her on the smooth purple carpet floor) and I continued to trail behind her. She eventually found an unoccupied room and I followed her in, the DJ turned on Rocko's "Thumb Thru the Check" ft. Young Scooter.

I couldn't even take a seat before the woman started twerking and I ended up pinned to the wall. Judging the size of her bowling ball sized ass it wasn't the worse situation I've been in as of late. Minutes later she threw me in purple couch and started to do some of the more traditional erotic dances that I was used to back in Liberty, with added ass volume. Her curves were godly, and I couldn't help but praise them. Her exceptional bust made her even more glorious. She soon took skimpy bra off as the dance went in full swing.

I threw out some more ones as she continued her lap dance. I didn't want this to ever stop. She locked eyes onto me and messaged my body. If the few shots I had earlier didn't cool me down then this did. Soon I found her tugging on my belt.

"Big Rod sends his regards." The whore said seductively as she pulled down my zipper and got to work on my already erect dick. A blowjob later and I gotten myself dressed back up and thanked the stripper. She told me anytime and that her name was Kieta.

I had been in the room for about 30 minutes and needed to find Tank and tell him what just happened. I searched through the somewhat bolstered crowd and I soon found a gaggle of people smoking weed, Tank was among them strippers were hording around them twerking and such. The men didn't mind, they threw away their paychecks freely.

"Kareem my boy, you look like a fucking stiff. Sit down son." Tank said comedic like as he passed the blunt to me. I hit it; French inhaled, and then passed it to the guy beside me.

"Fuck you." I said sitting down lacking heart, I was enjoying my rush and high.

"Ay K? You sip?" Tank asked me as he passed me a double cup made out of Styrofoam. I didn't need to ask what it contained.

"Hell yeah." I said as I sipped on the lean for a few minutes. A stripper took that time to approach me. She started twerking as I sipped. Damn I was getting trippy. Fuck.

"Damn son. You killed the shit." Tank said as he looked into his now basically empty cup he threw it on the ground where all the discarded swisher wrappers were.

I hadn't sipped lean since that time I snuck out the house with one of my friends back in high school. We stole a few of my Uncle's codeine pills, got some Theraflu from my mom's kitchen cabinet, got some Sprunk soda from the park vending machine close by, and got some fruity liquor by asking a homeless guy to get it for us. Needless to say we were fucked up after trying it, but went to the Halloween party regardless. I had tried it time and time after that eventually perfecting the craft, but once I moved up north my supply was low and it got really expensive, so I involuntary quit.

"Well you know." I said but I couldn't really focus as the girl in front of me went into a 69 like position. Her ass shaking in my face, her body basically in a hand stand. The smell of her perfume was nauseating, but no matter what my high wouldn't be blown, 2 chainz's Birthday Song was booming. The blunt got passed to me and I blew the smoke on the stripper's ass, getting a few laughs from the boys, I passed the blunt and threw down some ones on the stripper's ass and she just shook them off. I loved it.

POW POW POW

The air-piercing cracks of a single weapon filled the nightclub air. Essentially cutting the birthday cake of conversation. I looked at the where the shots came from and I saw Shannon, her arm straight and absolute, her hands holding a desert eagle. The security guard in front of him fell to the floor, lifeless.

"What the fuck?" I asked Tank, but I looked beside me to see he wasn't there. The gunshots seemed to stun the woman in front of me and even though she wasn't shot she was in shock. The whole club seemed to stop for a second.

The second ended so quick it was like it wasn't even there. The room seemed to go duckshit crazy as soon as the shock of the situation came into play. Through the craziness caused by the murder I saw Kieta shooting a sawed off 12 gauge, blasting an unsuspecting security guard's head open. That made the situation even worse, the crowd moving like herd of wild antelopes, a few of the patrons and employees getting caught in the crossfire. I had tried to keep my head down but I was still in a state of shock when I saw Tank running up towards me throwing me a 9 piece.

"What the fuck Tank?" I more stated more than asked, although I did want to know what the fuck was happening.

"I had some business to take care of." Tank said and without further explanation joined Shannon's shootout. The guards had started to realize the situation and got into cover positions. One of them noticed me with a gun and started to rush over me, making me now a fully fledged accomplice. The purp drank was taking its full effect and the man was running terribly slow. I sprinted towards him and placed a field goal kick on the side of his head, causing possible permanent brain damage. I grabbed his gun and tried to get my way over to Shannon.

Then a few shots whizzed by my head and I saw they were coming from the backrooms. Four guards came out with choppers; I quickly spun into cover behind an overturned couch, the spin almost taking out my lunch. They were tearing up the upholstery and I knew I had to act quickly. So I counted to five and Ran out of cover. I then rolled into cover behind a skinny rectangular runway stage that ended in an abandoned golden pole. I counted to five once again and climbed on top. It was now or never.

So I took a deep breath and ran towards the security guard's and propelled myself forward. My body stretched out and focused. The lean's effect had reached their climax and as I was in the air the room seemed to be practically frozen in time, the security guards barely moved. The bullets seemed nearly visible flying in the air.

With my two handguns in hand I managed to land all three headshots. The fucks didn't even know what hit them, or even more importantly how they got hit. I landed on the ground with an intermediate parker roll (managed while under the influence) and started to make my way to the front of the club for a quick escape.

"Don't fuck with me Misha. I know you know where the fuck yo boy is! Tell me!" Tank said his anger rising as he slapped her a second time.

"Fuck you." Misha said and Tank pistol whipped her, ending the interrogation for the time being. The light skinned girlfriend of a prominent loan shark fell over in her chair unconscious and Tank undid her bindings.

"Good shit Kieta. Now all I need to do is get this girlie out to Shannon's van." Tank said slapping the stripper's bowling bowl sized yet loaf of bread soft ass like an athlete would to another player, except Kieta's physique far surpasses that of cornerbacks, at least in the way I looked at I her.

"You ready then? Or do you need to put a vest on our something; I know you can't handle a shot for shit." Kieta said, noting that she was almost completely naked in her stripper outfit.

"Funny, you're the one that's always getting penetrated." Tank snapped back laughing as he undid Misha's binding and threw her over his broad shoulders.

"I'm going to turn this Asian bitch into chop fucking suey!" One of the gangbangers yelled out as Shannon was pinned to a parked outside the strip club. He was going to be the first guy she was going to kill. Gangbangers, always loud mouthed but never loud gunners, since 1972.

Shannon didn't answer though; it'd be a waste of breath. So as they jibber jabbered she devised a on-the-spot plan on moving in for the kill. Shannon had to the clear the parking lot so Tank could get through with Misha, all before the cops caught on.

So figuring now was the best time to start Shannon skirted around the black truck she had taken cover behind towards its headlights. She then edged out of the cover and the black clad gang members had no idea her 9mm sight was dead on the speaker's head.

Four shots rang out in methodic rhythm. All shots hit their mark and even though the parking lot was mostly cleared there was one banger Shannon couldn't get her sights on, the fifth Kin, who was now obviously in shock. Damn new guy probably, all she had to do was wait for him to break down.

"What the fuck? Jetto!" the last gang member yelled as he ran to one of his fallen Kin. That gave Shannon all the room she needed. She took a few seconds to make sure this one would count and let off three shots, headshot, abdominal shot, and through the thighs. Cruel, yet effective. Shannon called Tank to give him the go ahead.

"Alright let's blow this shit up." Tank said quietly to himself as he finished dousing a good line of gasoline around the inside of the strip club, no doubt it would quickly catch flame. A great man once said an eye for an eye. Another one said for him to turn the other cheek or something along those lines. Tank went by order of seniority

He withdrew a spare light from his coat pocket and made sure that Shannon, Misha, Kareem, and Kieta were outside. The "tank" of a man soaked up his surrounding; he wanted to see his handiwork. It was a shame he couldn't keep this building standing but hey, Tank had a feeling that his loan shark was responsible for the arson job on his house so another arsonist job felt right to be performed on him. After this it was on to his house, just had to find the right people, make the right connection. That time wasn't going to come by any sooner if he just stood here, so he took of the lighter out and lit the flame.

"Ay Shannon you driving?" I asked as he threw the unconscious woman in the back seat. Kieta was already in the back. She had a loaded sawn off shotgun pointed down in the car and it couldn't have looked weirder, seeing as she was basically naked in her stripper uniform. I averted my eyes so it wouldn't like I was staring, that could be considered pervish.

"Nah Misha should drive, I mean she's the most qualified isn't she, knocked out and everything." Shannon said her voice dripping with sarcasm like always.

"Ok let's get to the safe house before the heat comes." Tank said as the strip club caught on fire behind us. We peeled out the parking lot once everybody was inside and nobody seemed to tail us or notice us as we drove to the safe house.

_1 hour later..._

"Good shit K." Tank said to me as we left Keita and a machete wielding Shannon in the room with Misha.

"Thanks for telling me what we were really doing." I said resentfully as we walked down the torn down apartment building hallway.

"I knew if you knew you'd be start bitchin'. Plus I didn't really didn't want it to turn into a shootout; I was doing some scoping out when she spotted me. I needed a distraction so I gave Shannon the green. Kieta was in on it too." Tank said explaining his actions. It didn't help my state of mind, if only he told me.

"What's Kieta's story, she been with Rod for a while?" I asked as we started making our way down the stairs.

"Yah one of his first. Started out with like five now he has 17. Not all of them work at the shop though, some work at strip clubs and massage parlors around the city. He hasn't gotten business in Mariana yet but that's the next step." Tank said thoughtfully as we still trekked down the stairs. I could only wonder how big Rod's ambitions were in comparison with reality

"So about the reconnaissance. Why? What was the reason?" I asked wondering why all the death was deemed necessary.

"You remember when I got my house burnt down?" Tank asked and I nodded in confirmation, "Well the Mexican Mafia wouldn't know where I was if Misha's hubby didn't inform them, then give them the men they'd need. The guy just wanted to get those cholos on his side or he wouldn't have said shit. So I guess that's where the war starts. Until I get him off my back Rod's girls, me, Rod, and you will be targeted and that's not good for business." Tank explained, as if he was a Wall Street business man on the job.

"So where will this end?" I asked trying to find out how far the heavy hitter had thought this out.

"Well we would need to get enough money to give the Mexican's their fucking money. Don't worry though we robbed this place mostly dry. We couldn't get the recently thrown cash but we got the majority. We already had somebody leave with it. They left before it all went down." Tank said and it all started to piece together, I guess it was time to hustle a little harder.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to make some more moves. See on the flip Tank." I said waving Tank goodbye as we left the North Cresenta apartment, I called the local taxi company. Today was a long one.

* * *

**STELM: **_**Okay guys, hella long chapter I know but it was pretty good though right? I mean who doesn't like strip clubs. A really weird thing is though that I did this while thinking of the chapter from Metal Harbringer's chapter with Artie and Donnie Capelli shooting out in a strip club. The weird part is that his strip club chapter was the 7**__**th**__** in his fic just as it is in mine, didn't intend on it but it's still cool though right? The bill was also inspired on a bill that was presented in the SC YIG (youth in government) conference. There was a bill to illegalize strip clubs and one guy who spoke against it and went to the mic and said that if strip clubs were closed then he'd couldn't do this! Then he threw ones everywhere (and picked them all up of course).**_

_**Anyways I hope you all liked the whole switch in perspective, it's going to be really hard to do that with 3**__**rd**__** person and 1**__**st**__** person but I'll try my best. I mean if Rockstar can do it with GTA V why can't I do it with my GTA creation? But as in all art forms it all about the fans, I want your input. Do you think it was a good thing to add the switch in perspective or do you hate it and wish SK would just stay in his own little bubble?**_

_**Also there is another factor I hope to use more in the future. The whole Codeine Cup Killer Vision thing. Where he was trippin off lean and shot all those guys. Something coming mostly from Max Payne (expect he used painkillers) where time would slow down. But I know Vice City did something similar. I figure the whole purp thing would fit a dirty south fanfic well, I mean I know some people who do more lean than weed. So it's another thing to drabble on about, I'll have to see when I can use it in other chapters.**_

_**Ok now's the time to explain the few spoofs that came up. SHROoM Couture is a spoof on Dope Couture. I mean who doesn't like shrooms? Ultras are a spoof on the incredibly nice looking Supra hi top shoes. The Sandlapper mafia are a spoof on the Dixie Mafia. Sandlappers are an archaic name to call a South Carolinan. I don't know anybody who uses this but it was a lot better than the next option, the Cotton Ball Mafia. Bendover is a spoof on Eastover, the sexual innuendo is obvuise, and equally hilarious. Eastover is where my Uncle, Auntie, and cousins live in. Technically it's in Columbia but I'm changing it up because it's more country than anything. Aunt Jamia's Rum Cake is a spoof on my aunties boyfriends cake. I mean that shit was so alcoholic I could breathe it in a smell the alcohol, I know that sounds weird but it's true. Had the boy fucked up.**_


	8. Going Shogun

**STELM: **_**Alright guys another partially exciting episode in the life of SK. Sorry for the wait but as you may or may not know I had mid-term exams. Whoever said SC's education was low is my greatest enemy I mean ever since they said that every teacher I have starts their class off with this isn't one of your easy classes. The thing is though that that means that NONE of my classes are easy classes (because each teacher wants to 1UP the other and students like me are cough in the crossfire). Then there is such as the big jump between Honors and College Prep. While my Honors class will also teach AP classes (ones I'll take next year) they'll treat the Honors class like they treat their AP class but we don't get that same GPA leverage so I have to try stupid hard just to get by. Then in College prep the teacher will only teach college prep so they will give all their students easy As if they put in just a little bit of work.**_

_**Well that's my rant as to why I wasn't able to post this chapter up quicker. Well anyways this post was made while listing to some Trinidad James songs, Kendrick Lamar's albums, Chief Keef's Finally Rich album, Danny brown's new album, Live Long A$AP by A$AP Rocky (DOPE), Big Boi's new Album, and The Game's album Jesus Piece. I shit you not Jesus Piece is the best album I've heard in a long time I mean the shit's dope as hell. Favorite one (if I was forced to choose) would be… ahhhh I can't choose so Imma do top three – Church (ft. King Chip and Trey Songz) See no Evil (Kendrick Lamar), and Hallelujah (ft. Jamie Foxx). I mean if you ignore everything I say listen to that on YouTube or something. **_

_**Native Gunz: Speaking on Twerking I saw my friend's family twerk yesterday and I mean he's like a brother to me and all but, GODAMM! It was at his auntie's B-day party. All his family's thick. Thing is though we were the only one's there who weren't high. I mean I saw this one old dude roll up the blunt like a chief swear, the gas mask I found later on gave me inspiration for the first part of this chapter.**_

_**Yah swag is a big word here I mean most girls will fuck for that shit. Well that and the game you spit but you know a combination of those things and looks will get you the girl in the south, not always like that but those are the basics. **_

_**The thing about a lot of down south gangs is that if they don't know who did it they'll usually shoot out at the opposing gang instead of searching for the individual. Another thing is that the loan shark's Kin Nation niggas might not have the rank necessary to cause an all out war on SK. Plus nobody knows who SK is, things like this will play a more important factor later on in the story when SK joins up with somebody. You'll see in the beginning of this chapter that he is still cool with the local goons.**_

_**Crazy thing is twerking is not only for the women. Men be doing it too, to girls of course but I mean it's more for the laughs than to be serious. **_

_**Well actually I took Spanish 1 and 2 last year and even though I slept through most of it I still got 70 (which is barely passing). That and there's this Spaniard transfer girl I know. She's bad as fuck!(in a good way). So you knoowww I touched up on it a little!**_

_**Yah there's a People's Nation presence more in Georgia more than in SC but really in my area it's more a certain set based type thing going. Like there will be a gang in a certain area that'll be against the bloods and a shootout or two later the beef may or may not be settled. Plus there are lots of unknown gangs around here. The only reason I know a lot about Georgia is because I got fam there. **_

_**Speaking of MK I saw this video earlier and it was CRAZY. It was with Raiden and the guy with really nasty teeth and claws. They rob a bank, all you have to type in on youtube is Mortal Kombat Bank robbery. Then batman shows up and Raiden get's on the dark knight for a straight minute. I got more than a few laughs out of it. **_

_**Mafia II is a pretty dope game. I liked it when I had it. It's a short game and it's a story driven type open world game. It's really strict though. For example if you shoot someone in front of a lot of people they will snitch on you and you'll have to change clothes or the pigs will jump on you when they see you. That and you get speeding tickets. Good thing though is that gas is cheap in the 50s!**_

_**Tank is depressed that his house was burnt down his money got burnt down with it as well seeing as he didn't have a banking account. That and nobody likes to be broke when they owe money. **_

_**Yah well all the buttoned up polos and levi's are really popular. Snapbacks and denim vest are cool too. Definitely when you got that shit bleached. Chucks and elites socks usually finish up the outfit, along with some geeky glasses (I don't have to worry about it, my prescription glasses are geeky). In the summer cargo shorts are seen EVERYWHERE. We don't ever where any jerseys though. Snapbacks kind of took over the sports scene. **_

_**More bandana's over here, most people will call it a flag if they bangin or not. I mean most people will ask you if you bangin definitely if you have a paisley red, blue, brown, black, or green bandana. Most bangas will put it in their back pockets and fold it a certain way. **_

_**You are a genie my friend I had the very idea coming up in exactly two chapters form this one! Well it's too late now you've spoiled it for everyone!**_

_**I've read a bit of both I fell off of Blood Brothrs but I'll read up more on it when I finish this chapter. I also have to read Huckleberry Finn sooo, yah. Long as review response.**_

* * *

_**Going Shogun!**_

"Oh shit. Hit this chief, just put that shit on." Boom, the neighborhood crack dealer who also banged under the Kin Nation flag, said as he removed the gas mask from his face.

I put the mask to my face, covered the carb and Boom did the favors of lighting the bowl. I pulled yet foolishly forgot to close my eyes, they stung like shit if you didn't close them. Rookie mistake. I took the shit off and I emptied the smoke out of my body. My eyes stung like hell now and Boom just laughed.

"Fucking asshole!" I said trying to rub my eyes a little.

"They don't have this shit up north?" Boomer asked taking the gasmask and doing all the motions by himself. I told him earlier this week a blurred history of my life. It got me a job with the crack pusher slash Kin Nation Lieutenant. Plus the guy was one of Shannon's many weed connections. I met him however through a pickup b-ball game at the park down the street from Rod's house.

"Yah they do but that shit expensive, everything's expensive." I said the ganja already having its effect on my head. Boomer had just sold 30 ounces of this shit just yesterday; I went with him to overlook it. Weed deals rarely went wrong; it was more of a bonding experience than anything.

"Well like I was saying before though, yesterday this nigga came up quick to my face cuh. You know me I thought he was trying to get some sniff on slide, seen the nigga at the park a few times ye'naw'mean? Turned out that the nigga wanted the fame, reckless ass niggas. Young ass nigga too. Looked at the kid a little bit mo and seen he had that flag, banging that seven hunna shit and he knew me. Fuck it all these hoodrats know me. He wanted that fame though. So I fed him that lava. Right der, daylight type shit. Now these fucking hoodrats won't try to call shots on da boy!" The Kin nation Lieutenant seemed content with himself as he told the story of what had happened a few weeks ago.

"Real shit, niggas up north used to do shit like that. Tried my life a few times. The nigga used to be on that Mafioso type shit." I bragged, either I was starting to trust the early middle-aged boss or the weed was getting to my head. I mean the guy told me his whole story.

His nickname was Boom. He got it in his younger bangin days. He got jumped into the local Kin Nation set at 15 and committed his first murder at 19. He set up a crack pusher's kitchen to explode from the oven so when one of his workers was cooking up the house caught on fire. Boom had taken the pusher's cash stash before he blew it up (giving him the name Boom) and gave a quarter of it up as tribute to his lieutenant. The rest he spent on buying his own shit and making more cash. As of now he had three babies, only one of which he recognized as his. He was dusky black big boy weighing in the high 200s to mid 300s and had small dreads that barely hung out seeing as he usually wore a do-rag, one of the few who still rocked it. He was also a fan of the color black, dressing in the colors with commitment. He was one of the most respectable individuals in Rod's neighborhood. Rod coming in at a close second.

"Word? Niggas be faking though errwhere cuh. You know what they say? Keep them squares out yah fucking circle." I nodded and after a while I just lay back not moving at all. The lieutenant and I were sitting outside of his corner house. He had a few less violent dogs in the front, bulldogs, but not as violent as the starved monsters in the back of his house. We were sitting on plastic chairs, uncomfortable but cheap. My old Backside shoes felt comfortable on the dirt ground. The rest of my outfit consisting of a pair of black jeans, a camo jacket, and a grey thermal. Hey if I was going to be in the presence of goons I couldn't wear some flamboyant type shit. I mean what the fuck would they think of me then?

"Real shit Boom." I said watching the very few cars that passed by pass by. Just waiting for one to do something crazy, like roll down the windows and throw water balloons. Boomer would probably cap them before the first balloon hit the ground. He was paranoid sometimes, that's why for a majority of our conversation a Trinidad James mix tape was playing in the background, masking what we were talking about.

That was when my phone vibrated. "Yo?"

"Yah SK? This is Lass." the Mexican said over the phone sounding anxious.

"Yah this him, what's up?" I said as I slid down in my seat, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Rod wants you to stop by the restaurant. Said it's about **our **debt." Lass explained, putting emphasis on the word, our. I guess we were all in this, and I had to play my part.

"I'll be there." I confirmed and tapped the space allocated for ending calls and the call was ended. Boom acknowledged that I had to head out and we rapped knuckles.

I jumped into my Orange Emperor and turned the volume all the way up. The sound of Chief Keef's Finally Rich's Laughing to the Bank spread throughout the hood and I chirped out. After only a few minutes I realized that the driving with my eyes as irritated as this wasn't a good idea.

_In an Abandoned Apartment in the fringes of the Crescenta Metropolitan Area_

"How you doing Misha? Hanging in there?"Shannon said cleverly, walking into the room. She had just came back from getting a 40 oz from the gas station. She didn't have to worry about the businesswoman going anywhere.

She was stripped naked and gagged with one of Tank's old socks. The best thing about the set up was that her ankles were tied by an iron chain that connected to the roof. She was a bloody mess from the shoulders down; in this case 'down' was from her shoulders to the top of his head. The small bucket under her was quarter filled with a running stream of saliva that oozed from around the gag in her mouth, blood from the non fatal cuts that carved her body, and the urine that came with time. In the first few hours she screamed in fear and pain. Right now she was just moaning. I was sure she would survive, if not, then they would leave her like this as a message.

"You still feel like hiding your hubby?"Shannon asked and realized she was gagged and couldn't speak. The wily Asian removed the sock quickly not wanting her hands be contaminated by her prisoner's saliva.

"My nigga's gonna fucking kill you b…" Misha said swinging herself in an attempt to express her heated anger. Shannon simply knocked her out with her machete and made sure the chain bindings were sturdy and tight.

Seeing as she was getting no answers out of the businesswoman she sat down in the small coffee table they found when they got here. The place wasn't as bad as you'd think for an abandoned apartment that "wasn't suitable for human inhabitation" would be. The walls were striped, dark green on sea green. The kitchen was looted for its useful products by vagrants and all that was left was the black and white checkered tiles. The bathroom had no working water so it was basically useless. In the two bedrooms there was only a mass of junk that nobody wanted and she decided to just ignore the rooms and focus their efforts in the living room, where there was a coffee table with three chairs, a broken TV, and a chained up Misha with a waste bucket.

This gave the prostitute time off her usual illegal activity. Well that's if you take out the illegal drug use. The stoner didn't really do too much, she thought as she drunk out of her 40 oz bottle. She had snorted coke, smoked weed and a sherm stick, popped a few pills, and tried heroine once. She never touched lean though, it always took her out of her game. She usually got a nice fix from Rod most of the time. When she wanted to go all out she'd go to her other sources. She didn't need Rod to get weed he was just a really good and reliable source.

Plus in the end she did love her job for the most part. Making men her bitch was a specialty of hers. They always screamed her name, and she loved it every time. Even now as she had control over Misha's life, she felt some excitement, almost to the point of arousal.

In the end she did a lot for Rod and he did a lot for her. He made a lot of things go her way, and opened up a lot of doors for her. As she stepped up to the tops of the latter she could only secure her weak spots. That's why she had her lucky machete. Good thing she had it, because Misha had begun to wake up again, and Kieta came in the door to take my shift. Now what the fuck was I going to do for the rest of the day?

_At Louston's Low Country Grill_

"Ain't seen you in a while Kareem." cooed Monica, she was being sarcastic. I fucked her yesterday, free of charge. She said it was for saving her life. I decided that if Rod could hit it then I could, but bragging about it would be stupid.I mean bragging about fucking a hooker is like bragging that you got a honey bun from a vending machine.

"Right. You'll get Rod for me?" I said slapping the waitress on her rear as she walked away, she yelped in mock surprise and walked on, you could tell by her walk, she showed her wares to everyone.

I walked to a back seat and saw that the restaurant was surprisingly empty today, only a few customers were in today. Two emo girls on a date, a group of Irish men getting drunk eating a plates of rice and chicken, and two black girls no doubt gossiping.

Only after a few minutes of me sitting an unruffled Roderick Louston emerged, a white kitchen apron tucked into the waistband of his pants and a dish towel draped over his left shoulder.

He spoke with a serious tone, he was calm and collected. Whatever he was about to say was going to be well thought out. "Kareem the times coming, my plan is about to be set. Next week we are going to be free of those back breaking Mexicans."

"How?"

"You know that money I told you that I've been saving up?" Roderick asked playing with his polo's white collar.

"Yah, added with the money I came here with." I added making my contributions known, to whatever plan he had cooked up.

"Yah well anyway the money will go into funding our deal with the Mexicans. In exchange for 50k the Mexicans have agreed to leave us alone and forgive our transgressions." Roderick explained his voice filled with hope of success, his confidence was definitely showing. I didn't want to call him on it though. I couldn't help but be skeptical however.

"How do you know they won't just pop us for their pride and take the money?" I asked really wondering how far the man had thought this through.

"We'll have You, Tank, Dame, Lass, and me in the car, with the money. The Mexicans will come through in a choppa. We'll have Shannon and Kieta working on a roof with an RPG, a guided missile launcher, and a Sniper Rifle. If anything goes down the Mexican's will lose people too." Rod explained obvious in deep contemplation himself on how this was going to pan out. The thing I really wanted to know was how the hell Shannon and Kieta learned how to use such high-powered weaponry. I eventually decided against asking, it was probably a story that I wouldn't want to hear.

"To be foreal with you bro. It sounds good. We could actually get through with this." I said with sincerity. I know a lot of things could go wrong in this situation, but the half time pimp and full-time businessman had covered all the possible leaks.

"That's all I really wanted say brah. I'll see yah later." Rod said patting me on the shoulder before going to the door to greet a group of an older dressed up black couple. I quietly drank my tea and ate my buttered cornbread before I left. Waving the employees goodbye.

The sky was pretty nice though now that I looked into the sky. The wispy clouds insured that no rain would be coming this way any time soon. That was a good thing seeing as how crazy South Harroline weather got.

That's when my phone rang, I looked to the LCD layer glass of my MYphone. Shannon was calling me. "Yo."

"Kareem I'm at the apartment pick me up." Kareem heard Shannon say before hanging up. Kareem didn't ask he knew what apartment the psychotic whore was talking about.

_45 minutes later…_

"So you wanna drop you off home?"

"No shit." Shannon shot back I decided to just let her talk. I steadily turned the volume up on my newly bought the Game Album. Hallelujah was playing and I wouldn't let anybody talk over that song. Well until my phone started to vibrate and I found out hat Aeolus was calling me. I turned the music down so I could answer him.

"Yo."

"Kareem? This is Aeolus… come over, need help on some project of…mine." Aeolus said his words chopped off by seemingly moans of pleasure. What was that fuck doing? I swear if I went over there and saw just one tentacle somebody was going to get the shit knocked out of them.

"You got a job?" Shannon inquired, I was really hoping she wouldn't ask but I guessed now I had to tell her about my weird friend.

"Yah, for this techie not too far from the restaurant." I explained as I stopped at a red light. I wasn't in any rush.

"Interesting. I want in!" Shannon said and she was serious. I doubted I would be able to persuade her otherwise so I let it go.

"Sure why not?"

_At Plug it Up…_

"Aeolus…what the fuck?" I said before I could catch myself. Sitting in front of me, was a prostitute and a well pleasured Aeolus. He had a cigar in his mouth and the smoke came out large clouds. If he wasn't so small and scrawny he could have been mistaken for a Sicilian Don.

The white girl under the table from what I could see was a skinny white prostitute with heels aiming to please, she didn't stop. Aeolus motioned for us to sit down in the two seats. He looked at Shannon with interest. Shuddered in excitement time to time as we sat there in an awkward silence, the only thing we could here was the vintage rock music outside and the sounds of Aeolus getting head. From what I could hear the girl was pretty good. When it seemed that the Tech Don had "finished" he told the working girl to get dressed up and leave. She wasn't out the door before Aeolus started talking.

"Sorry that you had to wait through all that, but you know. You have to finish what you started." The Tech Don said with the mature voice of an old jazz singer, "I see you have brought a guest to my sanctuary. What's your name?" He asked Shannon but for some reason it sounded more like a command.

"Shannon." The prostitute said, you could tell that this sense of command and the commanded was an enjoyable place for her. I almost wanted to tell her to get her jaw off the floor, however I treasured my testicles and I knew Shannon knew her way around a machete.

"Nice name. The name Shannon comes from Ireland. Sionainn is an Irish portmanteau of sion which means wise and abhainn which means river. This is the Irish name for the River Shannon. Because the suffix ain indicates a diminutive in Irish, the name is sometimes mistranslated as "little wise one"." Aelous explained, breaking down the working girl's name into a science. His intelligence always surprised me, however I really wanted to get to business.

"Sure, well I am sure you two are familiar with the upcoming LX60 game console correct?" Aeolus asked and we both nodded, "Well then you might now of how expensive the damn things are. They run a good price out in major companies and I have no doubt that at a lower price they would sell like the new Prolaps on Black Friday." Aeolus explained, I kind of got where he was going.

"So you want us to rob Sticks and Disk for their secret stash of LX60s?" I asked, filing the job as one of my many robbery jobs.

"No no no. Way to public, too many people to witness you., no. I have a tracking device on a truck moving a large shipment of the newest version of the experimental LX60s. You just need to intercept the truck while it's going through a bad neighborhood and the cops will just question a few gangbangers and just write it off as a gang robbery. No links to me, you, or you compadre." as Aeolus went through the plan I mentally patted myself on the back for bringing Shannon along.

"So how will we locate the tracking device?" Shannon asked, she was the more tech smart person. I was just here to get the money in the smartest way possible without getting thrown in a gas chamber.

"Good thing you ask. I have a close contact out on Upper Lichmond, he is in a small alleyway with a van. I'll send you directions to exact directions when you leave. The van has all the equipment you'll need to get the truck down." Aeolus explained, there was however one missing piece he didn't tell us.

"How much?" I asked bluntly.

"12 grand." Aeolus said, and with that said me and Shannon left the Tech Don to his kingdom. It was time for us to get to work.

_In a Lower Lichmond alleyway…_

"Ay! Anybody there?" I asked as I knocked on the back door of the van. Shannon stood the close behind me.

"Yah dude." Came a voice and a few seconds later a Caucasian male came out, weed smoke escaping the enclosed van.

"You asshole." Shannon said kicking the man as he was still on the ground.

"Shannon? How the fuck are you?" The ginger said gingerly as he got up. Well gingerly high. In a gingerly high way, that was the best way to put it.

"Get the fuck away from me Sticky. Why the fuck are you here?" The prostitute said evading the ginger's hug.

"I'm doing some shit for Aelous. Isn't that what you were doing?" Sticky asked his high still in full effect.

"No dipshit. Why the fuck were you hot boxing before a fucking job?" Shannon asked accusingly, her pointer finger inches from his face.

"Wait, wait, wait." Sticky said backing up, "Don't act like you don't still get toasted every once in a while!" Sticky said his high self not making him seem as angry as he might have wanted, his dark pink Dude Larvae shirt, dark green cargo shorts, and sandals didn't help him either.

"I do but not before a job!" Shannon yelled back and I decided it was time for me to intervene.

"Let's just relax ok? You too get in the car and do your tech thing while I drive. Just point me to where I have to go." I said getting the operation on the move. The two got in the back with a few grumbles of their own. I got into the front seat without a word. As I pulled off the arguing began back again. This was going to be a long ride.

_25 minutes later in Barryville_

"Shut the fuck up back there. I'm getting a fucking headache up here. Just get ready to get out to stick up this truck!" I yelled over the arguments in the back. The two were silent as we blockaded both lanes of the small town's street. The truck wasn't that far up ahead. We had already put on Ski mask which looked highly weird in the hot southern small town on the fringes of Crescenta.

The plan was that I'd take the driver out and Shannon and Sticky would get to the back to make sure the goods were there. Then they would both get in the front and I'd drive to Aeolus's lock up. Simple and sweet and we'd both leave with nine thousand.

"1…2…3… Go!" I said as we emerged from behind the van, our guns leveled at the driver's seat. I had my combat pistol, Shannon had a TEC-9, and Sticky had a M249. How the stoner got his hands on such a beaute of a weapon was a total mystery to me, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

The driver quickly threw himself out the truck. As he was sprawled out on the ground I knew I as I looked as his innocent face that he didn't have any part of this so I spared him and instead of shooting him I just pistol whipped him into unconsciousness.

I got into the driver's seat and waited to hear from the techies on whether the shit was there. As soon as looked in the truck's side view mirror I saw a squad car turn a distant corner. I then got out the truck and yelled, "South Harrolina's finest people!"

The back door of the Truck slid down with an audible closing. Shannon and Sticky came around from the back. "I'll cover you from the van, you two get in the truck!" I yelled and in seconds they were in the truck getting a head start. I had the pleasure of greeting the police.

"Hello officer what seems to be the problem?" I asked as the policeman stopped in front of the still blockaded street.

"Please move your vehicle and get on the ground with your arms and legs spread!" The police officer sroared through his speakers. I kneeled down in mock surrender for three seconds until I could see the driving policeman get ready to open his door.

I sprung! My combat pistol was whipped out with ruthless efficiency, the two policeman's heads becoming bloody messes on their state issued seats. I then ran my fastest to the van. I left the car on before we got out so all I had to do was smash the gas. I caught up to the truck quickly. Two squad cars came up behind us and started to shoot at the van. With one hand on the wheel and the other outside with my pistol I managed to shoot the driver in the closest patrol car. The squad car ended swerving to its right. The car behind it crashed into it, the two cars crashing in a heap into the small town grocery store.

We didn't drive three blocks until three more squad cars hopped on us. The foremost car speaking on the speaker, telling us to surrender. I responded by shooting the speaker's car's left front wheel. The car skidded towards the sidewalk before crashing into a light pole then a parked pickup truck.

The small town's police department was still on our asses and I shot at one particular cruiser as it started gaining up on us. I could slowly feel my gun going dry. I looked in the glove department and found nothing but weed and rolling papers. Seemed that Sticky had this van for a while. I looked under the passenger seat to find what I meant to find, and SMG. The weapon was a little heavy in my hands so I decided that I'd just have to knee drive this. So getting in position I managed to get half of my body out the side window as I started spraying. The two cop cars were down in seconds.

As I saw that we were getting to the edge of town I figured that we were home free that's when I saw a police SUV slam into the truck. Only by the expert driving of Shannon did the truck not flip over. As I raced behind them I put my sights on the SUV driver. The SUV was going in for another slam when I sprayed a bit at the right side of the back of the car; the blood could be seen littering the insides. The passenger ran outside screaming, he was bathed red. I made put the effort into seeing him under my wheels. It gave me a little pleasure seeing the powers that be under you like that. The best thing about it was that were almost out of the town completely.

"Shit shit shit!" I heard on the vehicular intercom set up between the van and Shannon's headset.

"Halt we see you! Get out of your vehicles with your hands up!" A voice said from the speakers. As I looked up I saw that a helicopter was one of our last obstacles. Until he was dealt with we would have a chance of escaping alive.

"How the fuck are we going to lose these small town sheriffs?" I asked the intercom, nobody answered.

I was contemplating how we were going to care of the helicopter when I saw Sticky climb to the top of the roof of the industrial truck and start shooting his fully automatic at the low flying helicopter, the bullets barely puncturing the helicopter's metal underside. I was starting to wonder if the guy was crazy when I saw him with draw out a Molotov cocktail, he quickly lit the rag on fire and threw the bottle at the low hovering copter. You'd think the windows would be stronger but they weren't, they collapsed in and the pilot was lit on fire. The helicopter swiftly crashed into a small banking building. It landed with an explosion. Luckily the bank was always closed on Sunday.

With the copter down we got on the highway and headed our way back to Aeolus's lockup. Shannon called me to see if I was alright and I told him that I was good. I also told her to tell Sticky that he was a fucking hero. She relayed the message and Sticky replied by saying he was going fucking shogun on the pigs, whatever that meant.

Once we got to the lock up Sticky gave me his number and got back into his van. Aeolus gave us our share without regarding the damaged material. I dropped Shannon off home and I went my own way. I was going to go to Ammu-Nation buy myself a better weapon.

**STELM: **_**Tis a chapter I've been waiting to finish for the longest so here you go. It also proves that I suck at writing most chase scenes. I need to grow on it though, one of these I'll get to it. People told me to undermine the "blue eyed devils" so I put one in the story! I mean what's the south without White Folks. Lucky for you all the country bumpkins will only show their inbred faces when SK chooses his alliegiance. For know he'll stay in Crescenta and Hentown.**_

_**The next chapter will be the biggest one thus far. So get your popcorn, your noodles and wasabi, your sushi, your Tofu burgers, your crawfish buckets, your toothpicks, your neighborhood prostitute, your out of town friend, and your brazzer subscription numbers. Be ready for the most action packed and story important chapter. After this the whole allegiance thing will start to play out. After this chapter SK will have open reign of both Hentown and Mariana. **_

_**Ok now onto the few spoof explanations. The whole going Shogun is from a book that is called Going Shogun. It's pretty good and cheap. The whole getting her naked and making her piss herself comes from this Mafioso book called Connected. Also a pretty good book for cheap. **_

_**The "bragging about banging a hooker" is from Natasha Leggero's stand up. Aeolus's explanation of Shannon's name comes from Wikipedia. His getting head separated him from any other slinky nerd, really he is what a geek with no confidence always hopes to be. Sticks and Disk is a random gaming store, no real explanation. Games are played on disk and most people call the controller (for any console) sticks. Referring to the old controllers of the 80s and 90s. Dude Larvae is a spoof on Guy Harvey shirts, a normal dress for the white kids at my school at least, sandals are another common thing to wear (in the middle of a state).**_

_**Barryville is a small town based on Bishopville another small town in Columbia. Not exactly a bad neighborhood but it is quite small so it doesn't see much action. Not too many police needed there s it wasn't that hard for SK to lose the pigs.**_

_**And with that I bid you all a due. Keep the glue on STelmer's. He's STICKY!**_


	9. Old Friends, New Enemies

**STELM: **_**Alright this is the chapter I've been waiting to write for a while. This is where Rod get's more serious and the team has an actual beef that will get worse with time, to the point where SK will have to choose a side that will help them. Did this while bumping to Black Hippy artists. Ab-Soul "Terrorist Threats" ft. Danny Brown and Jhene Aiko being included in that mix.**_

_**No reviews for last chapter…**_

* * *

_**Old Friends, New Enemies**_

_**-SK-**_

"Hah look at that nigga face!" One of the neighborhood hoodlums called out, as one of the more intellectual members of the black community. A skinny sized teenager, donning tan corduroys, a red polo, a pair of dark brown boat shoes, thick framed prescription glasses, and hookah beads. He still had his backpack on; its fullness reminded me of my adolescent schooling years. I doubted the kid would be able to make it home without his bike.

The bike itself was made in the "chopper" low-rider fashion. It was a bright blue color and had thin tire width. The handlebars had black leather wrapped around them, and the steel pedals were made to resemble motorcycles. No wonder the hoodlums were after it.

The school kid watched helplessly as the robber circled around him his friends cheering him on. The school kid ran after the bike robber just for another hood rat to come up behind him and take his DimeSs soda, Salty Os, and a Honey Bun.

That's when I saw it, a small fire in the little boys eyes. The person who had stolen his bag of snacks pushed him down before he ran back to his homies with the snacks. The young mental soldier dropped his heavy black back sack of books and ran towards the coalition of hood rats.

"What you gonna do brah? We 700 ova here!" One of the gangmembers said. Labeling himself as a OG Bright member. The most shocking thing was that these guys were around the school kids age, couldn't be outta high school yet.

The school kid didn't back down so the gang members gave it to him. Through the punches and kicks the school kid could see a man of normal size. He had one some black jeans, a snow camo Adopee track jacket, and some white Mikes. In his hands an empty liquor bottle, and before three seconds of the brutal beating could continue the bottle was in the air in shattered pieces off the "leaders" head.

"What the fuck?" the bike robber exclaimed him himself not involved in the beating. He was perched on the school kid's bike, probably looking out for the cops.

"You scared punk? Run!" I yelled, the bike thief hesitating for a few seconds before he started running toward me, setting the bike on the side of the small grocery store

"Get this nigga!" The bike thief yelled as he ran towards me, the others began to run towards me. The first one got the worst of it.

He came up to me unarmed and swung at my face with a wild punch that he seemed to put a lot of his power into. I dodged it without thinking to much of it and buried my fist into the boy's gut. He doubled over in pain and the next two came at me together, one with a wooden bat and the other with a thin sheet of wood.

I focused on the one wielding the plywood first and pushed the clumsily overweight plywood his way before the gang member could get the chance to swing it at me. That gave me less than a second to dodged the bat that swung inches from my head. I saw that the grip on the bat was loose so I disarmed him with a quick and clean arm breaker. It didn't take a long time for me to get the OG Brightlin in a wrestler's hold. I stopped before the maneuver could kill him. I didn't want to get any child killer perks in my underworld resume.

The one with the plywood ran away as I dealt with the baseball bat wielder. They knew that I now had the wooden bat at ready for any of the other hood rat kids. They didn't take up the offer and turned tail with their friend. I laughed a little as I threw the bat to the side and went to help the school kid victim up, who needed the police when you had a helping hand like me patrolling the streets?

"Took quite a beating their kid." I said pointing out the obvious before getting into the details. These kids were probably waiting on the right time to strike. The beef definitely hadn't started here, but I took chances that it wouldn't continue for a while at least.

"Yah, no shit. Thanks though" The kid said wiping his pants of the dust. I was afraid however that the luxury pants were ruined until he put them in a washer. At least his glasses were saved from breaking. Good old reliable thick frames always were with you through thick and thin. I had gotten my contacts shortly before my senior year, but I always liked the feel of a good pair of glasses.

"No problem, listen, if these guys come back and try to jump you again just ask the clerk at this grocery store right here for a guy named Kareem. I'll make sure they're care of, the shit spitting assholes." I said kicking one the fallen OG Brightlin's in the gut that I had punched earlier.

"I won't hesitate." The school kid said picking up a Speranza Rising book that he had dropped beside his heavy book sack, after spitting on one of the other downed ganbangers. I remembered the book sparsely. It was about an Italian family who had to travel by boat to Liberty City. That's where they work their hardest to live off an industrial worker and a teacher's salary.

"What's your name anyways kid?" I asked the scrawny scholar.

"Leroy Teach. Most people call me LJ." The teenager said and with a farewell wave pedaled off to home hopefully.

_In a large building overlooking a private sector of the Cosma Welch Terminal in northern Hentown…_

**-Shannon-**

"Kieta, bring up that red box from the room. I should be finished setting the launcher up once you come back up." Shannon said as she began to put together the RPG launcher. The red box had the ammo for RPG and all it would take was a short lesson for her to teach the prostitute how to use it.

Most people didn't know this but before Shannon had even came to Crescenta she had done some heavy work with the Kkangpae in San Andreas. The North Korean mob got her out of South Korea and smuggled her here for a better life at 11. From a young age the poor Korean girl was taught the basics of martial arts, English, and the basic rundown of your basic street sweeping weapons. For her mid-teenage years she worked in smuggling guns and other contraband in places where the normal aged person would be checked for such things.

It was when she turned 17 did she begin to sell her body. Around that time she started smoking weed and that's also when she put her dreams on moving to the east. The San Adreas Kkangpae was getting torn apart by rival gangs and she didn't want to get caught in the crossfire. So days after her high school graduation she secretly packed her bags and moved out of her pimp's apartment to fly her way across the country.

When she got to South Harroline she was basically homeless and her meager belonging did nothing to help her. She ended up either robbing rich white folks or turning tricks in alleyways for money. It was as she saw a well dressed Roderick closing up shop did she try to strike. She had a snub nose pistol to stick up people and has used it several times, finding her in several peculiar positions.

When she made her move to rob Rod, the guy raised his hands in the air. Shannon could still remember the smirk he had on his face and how much it annoyed her. Shannon had stolen his car and was planning on dropping him off in some woody area, stuffed in a spare duffel bag and thrown in a bush, he wouldn't be found in months, by that time he would have rotten through. That's when somehow Roderick got loose. How? I never found out, but my carelessness did allow me to get a garrote wire wrapped around my throat. The man wasn't trying to kill me however he just wanted me to crash. Once his car had ran into a telephone pole and I was momentarily stunned, Roderick turned the tables, rendering me his hostage.

Shannon could remember the cold face he had on when he dragged her into his house and threw her on the bed. He took her then and kept telling that she couldn't do anything to stop him, he would expose her robbery scheme without a second thought. As she was forceful penetrated she could remember him saying that he had seen her stalking around the restaurant and had some of his "people" follow her. He told her that he had found out that she was homeless and that he would give her a job. After he "done" he undid the binding and dared her to run or try to attack him. She didn't, she didn't anywhere to go, Shannon was his sex slave for months until the chef told Shannon how she could be useful in more ways than serving drinks at the bar.

Hell the Korean street girl had done prostitution before, she thought this time was going be the same, but it wasn't. After the three-month hiatus the big man softened up on her and she began to make friends with all of his hoes. He began supplying her with weed (something she had sorely missed in her life), protection, and housing. That was until she got enough money to move out on her own, to call in her own customers, always dolling out a portion of her cash to her pimp.

That was six years ago, she was twenty-nine now and had changed houses twice. She earned money not only by working at the grill, and selling sex; she had also earned money by handling Roderick more dangerous business, or tagging along with him or Tank on heist or hits.

Shannon knew she was thinking too much so she got out her myPhone and tapped an interesting news story that featured the Asian herself, _"It was a victorious day for gaming nerds and teenage boys everywhere. The still under covert production LX60's were revealed and stolen with possible intent to distribute in a small town known as Barryville. The local police was heavily involved and a local family owned bank was destroyed in the chaos. The incident has cost the small town hundreds of thousands of dollars to repair and get back into recognizable shape. Two civilians have been found dead, eight others critically injured. The police has put the immediate area on the look out on a young black male between 18 and 28 with a mild afro, and a moderate facial hair, his two other accomplices are only known as one being a short asian woman and the other a ginger male. If you know the whereabout of these villains or the distribution of these stolen gaming systems please call our hotline."_

"It's done." Shannon said as she finished putting together the RPG and her thoughts. The sky was so serene, it was hard to be serious in such good weather. It gave the armed muscle a little time to think from her otherwise busy schedule. Luckily she had three more hours until Rod, Tank, Lass, Dame, and SK would show up, and Kieta was never shy to pleasure her fellow street workers. Good thing they booked a hotel room on the top floor.

_Benevolent Hills, North Hentown_

**-SK-**

"Yo Dame wake Lass up we're almost there." I said as I drove through the streets of North Hentown. Traffic was savage here. Too many elderly women shot up with meds and too less mellow potheads cruising the streets.

"Alright this is it guys. If this goes wrong it goes really wrong. If it goes right we're going to have a lot of beads off our backs." Roderick said as he got off the phone with Shannon. They were just finishing up the details on her part.

The Cartel had set the meeting at 5:13 pm. If we weren't there by then, they'd assume we were never going to pay them. Then we'd be dead before the end of the month. My phone read 4:48 pm so we're making good time. The light in front of us turned green and Roderick started his debriefing

"Ok I've talked to the Cartel and they're very keen to start a business relation with the restaurant."

"You mean extortion racket?" I asked, knowing how most crime family operated. They'd only be there to protect him when he was paying up lumps of dough he could spend on a million other things.

"Well that's a predicament we've found ourselves in. So anyways if all of this goes well, we'll be doing well for ourselves which is better than the alternative." Roderick explained, beating around the bush to say that he had to bend over to the Cartel for them to get off his ass, which was an oxymoron.

"What's alternative?" Lass asked, still half asleep.

"Death."

_40 minutes later…_

"How long do we have to wait on these asses to touch down? They told us 5:13!" Tank said aggravated. He had his Mac in his hands and he was tapping the tip of it on the back of my seat. The knowledge that the Mac wasn't on safety made me more nervous than anxious.

"He's the Cartel boss's son. I doubt he cares if we are sitting with our thumbs in our asses for hours on end." Dame said drinking out of a bottle of whiskey.

"How the fuck do you know we are dealing with the Cartel Boss's son?" Roderick asked no shortage of surprise in his eyes.

"You're not the only who's been researching Rod." Dame pointed out drinking more of his whiskey bottle.

"How'd you get out done by a drunk Rod?" I asked jokingly jabbing the chef in the shoulder.

"I'm not a drunk! I just like to get a little buzzed before a serious situation." Dame defended himself after drinking the rest of whiskey bottle and setting it on the backseat floor.

"Ay shut up back there; that's them in the chopper. You see it? To our right." Roderick said pointing to the incoming chopper hovering over the building, finally landing on the open space a few meters away from the edge of the water.

"Here's the deal, they want a clean exchange on open ground. Kareem, Tank, and myself will go and give them the money. Lass and Dame you will take the front seat and drive us off fast if we need it. Shannon and Kieta are up on a hotel's rooftop to our right. If shit goes down, duck. Everybody ready?" Roderick asked switching his look from to the back seats.

"Ready." Lass answered.

"Got it." Dame answered.

"Heard." Tank answered.

"Roger that Brah." I said mock saluting. Before I got out the car I made a cross signal in a quick signal to God to look over us.

"Good, I'll send the ready to go text to Shannon." Roderick said as he took out his phone and tapped it a few times and got out the car. Tank, Roderick, and I got the money out of the trunk and the twins got in the front seats.

We walked with a certain swagger; I had changed clothes from what I beat up the teenage hoodlums in. Now I had on a charcoal double-breasted jacket, a dark black turtle neck, carbon slacks, and black loafers. Tank had on an Onyx suit and Roderick had on a Perseus mustard sports coat with onyx black slacks.

In our hands held the 28,000 in used fifty and one hundred-dollar bills that would free our indebted souls, and put us in another sticky situation. It was cased in silver secure cases. We weren't taking any chances. All of us were armed.

"I see you have come in bulk Roderick." The Mob Boss's son said only shaking Roderick's hand.

"We just want this debt of our hands and any sins against your Cartel forgiven." Roderick said setting his case down.

"Right down to business then? Show me the Feria." The slick haired, floral shirt under charcoal sports coat wearing Mexican said like it was some sort of sacred mantra.

"28,000 all used in hundreds and fifties, show em." Roderick said and Tank and I opened the cases. The young face of the Cartel nodded his head and two men who came out of the helicopter with him took the money cases.

"You do good business."

TAKKA TAKA TAKA TA

"Oh shit!" I yelled as I saw the young face of the Cartel literally get ripped apart by automatic gunfire.

TAKA TAKKA TAKKA TAKKA

"Get in the fucking car!" Rod yelled and as I sprinted towards the car. I only glanced back once but that was enough to see who was shooting. As I looked back I could see four masked men run towards our money. It was all crumbling before my very eyes. Our fucking money was gone now and I knew it.

Tank started shooting at them as them as he backed up. He downed one of the skinnier gunmen and the gunmen started to return fire. I abandoned all notion of a fire fight as a bullet skinned my side. I jumped through the window into the car landing on Rod's lap. Tank got into the other side and before he could even slam the door closed Dame was already picking up speed out of the docks.

"Fuck it Keita shoot that chopper down!" Shannon screamed as she stared down her scope only able to kill the Mexican and his escorts, only two of the masked men got a taste of the asian's wrath. Mostly due to the wind and distance than the speed of the masked men themselves. Shannon could only glanced out of her free eye from time to time to check on Kieta, she cursed to herself as Kieta fired off another missile missing once again.

Those fucking spicks were running away from the fight and if they got back to their masters the Shannon was sure all of us would be dead. Hell even if she did down them all they were probably dead anyways. Shannon's eyes sparkled when Kieta hit the helicopters nose. Exploding on contact, the rest of the chopper exploding with it.

A quick examination by the North Korean killer had shown that the copter blades had popped off before it could be burnt down. The blades spun in the air for silent seconds that felt like eternities. The blades looked like they were going to come Shannon and Kieta's way before the dangerous helicopter part flew into the ocean. Whew.

"I'll grab the launcher case , you grab my rifle and follow me close." I said as I started backing up the RPG and other materials. I then got my machete and GAT out. Twas time to make a grand escape.

"Get these puntos off my ass SK!" Dame yelled and I rolled the window down, and withdrew my recently purchased FN P90 Assault SMG.

Three tinted cars were following us, trying to shoot at our tires. I didn't know if it was the Cartel or the people who robbed us but I did know that if they succeeded in stopping us we'd be dead. As I was about to stick my gun out the window to fire at the incoming vehicles one of them popped our right rear tire and I almost lost a handle on my weapon.

"Fucking shoot SK!" Rod said and Tank decided to join the firing squad. Lass was too busy on his laptop trying to scramble the police's targeting intel. For all the police knew they needed to set up a road block eight miles away from where we were at currently. It would fool them for a while but I didn't know how long the curtain could be held up.

I kept my finger on the submachine gun's trigger letting the weapon do it's damage on the front of one of the rightmost cars, it went down easy, the passenger and driver were dead in seconds. The other two were more crafty. They swerved to avoid the spray fire. I was trying to get a bead on one of them closing in on us when a sudden force of inertia hit the car. The submachine gun fell out my hands and the world seemed to flip several times, each time I felt the impact. After further reasoning I deduced that it wasn't the world that moved it was the car. We had been flipped, God knows by who.

"What the fuck!" I could hear Dame say but my ears were still ringing for some reason. Gunfire could be heard outside.

"Finally, bottom floor." Shannon said to herself as they jogged down the stair cases. Shannon's feet were screaming for her to stop but she had to press on. The people in the building had all turned tail and ran when they heard the shots. Shannon did however have to kill a snoopy neighborhood watch hero who tried to get to the bottom of the situation.

They went through the lobby and as she expected, empty. The visitors and employees left in a hurry. Shannon let Kieta run through with the Asian sniper's sniper rifle in hand. They ran outside of the crumbling building with everything on their bodies intact.

"There they go! Shoot em!" A voice that had a foreign twang to it yelled, his voice followed by gunfire.

PING PING PING

"Get to cover Kieta I got this!" Shannon yelled as the trained killer let her GAT do the pointing, her machete still in hand.

Shannon combat rolled to her left and sprayed a storm of bullets, the bullets littering the two cars that the foreign masked men took cover behind. They had to entrance to the hotel blocked off. With the RPG case laying on the ground Shannon could wield her machete pretty fluidly.

As she saw one of the men pop his masked head around the bumper of one of the car's Shannon pounced. She sprinted towards him shooting the whole way. The first three rounds hit him in the head. The other 17 were for good measure. Plus it gave her the noise to mask her approach and not wasting a single millisecond she executed a perfect slide over the roof of a gray Merit that served as cover for the assailants.

As she slid to the other side she impaled one of the masked gunmen's cranium with her machete. Shannon's victim screamed as the African bush knife dug through the man's brain tissue, upper respiratory system, and mouth, eventually dissecting his throat tubular. Shannon looked around to see three remaining gunmen. The closest one to her got a fataly light cut to the adams apple, the other two got sprayed in their well dressed torso.

"You bitch!" one of the downed gunmen exclaimed, grabbing his gut where several of Shannon's bullets had landed.

"Only when I need too." Shannon replied as she littered the gunman's face with hot lead.

Out of the Asian sadist's eye's a small gradual movement revealed the plot of one of the downed ambusher. He was trying to drag himself to his gun. "Not so fast, little dead one."

"Noo! Don't hurt me! Please!" the downed man screamed, flipping himself over and holding his hands out like they would stop her. She decided she would have some fun.

"But sir, you were trying to shoot me while I was taking care of one of your buddies." Shannon cooed in the annoying Asian school girl voice that allured many of her clients, circling around the downed man spinning her machete. She kicked the weapon to the side.

Before the gunman could try to explain she cut his right through his exposed white right wrist. Blood squirted out where the hand was severed. It stained Shannon's white dress shirt, yet it only motivated her more. The man screamed in agony and tried get himself up.

"Where do you think you're going silly man?"she asked in the same seductive voice as she cut the man's stomach out, the kidneys and small intestines falling out as well, taking a lot of blood with them.

Before the poor soul could escape this cruel world Shannon pulled the man's mask off to reveal a young Italian male who looked to be in his twenties, he was twitching as she held him in her hands. His eyes were pleading and pathetic. Shannon showed no mercy when no mercy was shown to her.

"Who sent you! Who are you looking for?" Shannon yelled in the man's face, discarding the seductive voice she used on her luckier clients. The young Italian's mouth twitched for a second. All she could make out was him saying:

"SK" Shannon had heard that name before. The twins said it a few times. Who were they talking to? Kareem! That's who. That was his nickname in Liberty. Shotgun Kareem. Why were these Yankee fucks looking for him?

Questions to be asked later Shannon feared. Kieta was behind a car protecting the missile launcher materials and Shannon's sniper rifle through the whole gun and knife play. Shannon told her not to fret she'd get some action soon but for now they needed to leave Hentown and meet up with the boys at the restaurant in Crescenta.

"Where are you SK? We've been looking for you." A familiar voice called out. Tank, Rod, the twins, and I were all behind the overturned Sentinel XS that we had come here in.

My head rested on the roof of the car and the heat of it sent sweat dripping down my roughly shaved beard. My mild afro didn't help me conserve my cool. But even under the uncomfortableness of suffering from a bullet wound, being really close to my also slightly injured companions, the car being heated with a possibility to flip over and squash us, and with the knowledge that were probably surrounded, I could still recognize the voice of my Mafioso mentor.

"Luigi! Why?" I yelled my voice rattling with anger and the pain of betrayal. I could imagine the smirk face on the guido.

"This is how the game works. You can just run away from your problems. I tried to save you with me but you ran away and we had to control our assets. You were an asset, now you're a liability to our whole organization." Luigi yelled and for some reason that was the only thing I heard. You'd think they'd be trying to advance on us by now but they were waiting on Luigi's orders.

"Fuck you! I put my blood sweat and tears into your fucking organization!" I yelled looking around for something to get out of this situation. Then in sidewalk that was only a few feet out of the cover of the car was a double cup. If I knew SH like I thought I did I knew that it was probably lean. The original sipper must have turned tail when we were flipped.

"You never were part of our blood. The higher ups told me not to trust you and now I told them to fuck off. Now I see what they meant. You killed somebody very important to us in Liberty and you dumped the body, tricky trick you. You didn't think I knew about Miguel and the caine you stole?" Luigi asked and I suddenly realized what was going on. He was being manipulated; he didn't really know what was going on.

"Arciere is playing you! I was set up with that stiff. They fucking set us up and they just want you to go down for it! Just let me go and we can work together to fight these two tounge pricks!" I yelled still looking at the double cup, ready to seize my chance of a slower reality. I was sure that the lean would have a more than slightly beneficial effect on my shooting abilities.

"I'm sorry SK, I'm married to this life. This is just how things will have to be." Luigi said solemnly and I could start to hear several footsteps. Time to move.

"That's your final decision then." I said getting out of cover in a crouch, "Count three seconds after I go out then run out of cover." I ordered my companions and they gave me a quick affirmation.

I waiting till the footsteps were more pronounced and then did a barrel roll out of the front side of the Sentinel XS and quickly looked in the cup to see the purple drank I'd been expecting. I downed it quickly and as the mafiosos started to figure out what happened I threw the cup towards to serve as a momentary eye distraction as I withdrew my pistol, firing at an organge suited Luigi.

I aimed for his heart but I reckon by the continued moving of the mafioso that he was still kicking. I shot him again in the leg, so I could execute him later. That and I couldn't kill an old friend without a proper explaination and an eventual farewell.

In any case the lean began to take effect and as the other Mafiosos ran to aid Luigi my friends stormed out of cover guns a blazing. I could almost see the bullets whizzing past me, some hitting the ground directly in front of me. Trying to avoid getting more bullet damage I jumped sideways and as I flew free in the air I manage to down four of Luigi's soldato's. I hit the worn asphalt with a thump and as I was on the ground I managed to get a bead on two more Mafioso's, knocking them out of the "life", forever.

As I saw more of the gunmen go down by my the help of my team I saw that Luigi had disappeared. Where had that fuck ran off to? He was crippled. Wasn't he?

BEEP BEEP

I turned around quick and saw the sea green Oracle began to bolt my way. Due to the effects of the lean the car was coming a lot slowly and the honks of the horns came out as long drawls. My brain may not have had the best cognitive skills right now but I was able to figure out that if I got hit then I'd be pretty much dead seeing as my wounds would be stretched and a substantial amount of blood would be loss.

So I went as Sticky would say "shogun" and put my right foot on the front bumper and used it to lever myself over the car. How I managed to do this without causing serious damage to my leg was a total mystery but I pulled it off regardless. As I soared through the late evening air I turned my guns to blaze on escaping car, the bullets riddling the roof and bumper. I fell faster than I thought and as I felt the lean lose it affects I felt I sharp pain to my leg and to other parts of my body that I seemed to ignore when I was trippy killing. As I saw the sea green car fade out in the distance I felt loss and with that emotional hurt came another type of pain. The physical kind.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

* * *

**STELM: **_**The Trippy Bandit Kareem strikes once again. Before I begin the whole lean on the sidewalk thing is a spoof on Max Payne finding pain killers EVERYWHERE, in abandoned arenas, in airports, in poor San Paulo villages, in nightclubs, and even in cemeteries. **_

_**Well anyways this chapter was one that I was just a hurrying to get finished with. This is where the story begins. The Mexican Cartel feud against Roderick and gang (the reason I say that is because Roderick is kind of in control of things as of now).Now they will have to go against all odds and try to find their way out of this tricky situation by action and by laying low a bit and trying to make enough money and contacts to start a war against the Cartel. So...welcome to South Harroline. **_

_**Today you learned a lot about Shannon A LOT. I may not have made it clear but she is also an illegal immigrant so she doesn't have any registration. She is also a very socially awkward person, she's somewhat of a sadist, she's bisexual, and loves playing either the master/slave role in the bedroom.**_

_**The whole scene with LJ was inspired by the Baby boy scene where Joey or Jody gets his bike stolen. LJ himself is a young smart high schooler that can help SK on more cover or otherwise trivial matters. **_

_**Salty O's are a SH exclusive chips, DimeSs is a soda based on Crystaline a cheap soda that you can usually find at your local gas station. Adopee is based off of Adidas. The whole child killer perk on my underworld resume thing was based on the perk you could get in Fallout 1 &2, and I don't think it was on 3 or NV. Mikes is a spoof on Jordans, origionally from Zne Longsharks GTA story a MOB story, jus a quick shout out.**_

_**Speranza Rising is an Italian spoof on the notable teens book, Esperanza Rising. That tells the story of a young Mexican girl whose family works as a migrant worker. **_

_**Cosma is a spoof on the shoreline county of Wando in Charleston. The spoof comes from the show Timmy Turner's fairly Odd Parents. One fairy's name is Cosmo the other is Wanda. Therefore if you switch the names up it becomes Cosma.**_

_**Kkangpae is South Korean style Mafia. Benevolent Hills is a spoof on Mount Pleasant, the area where Wando stands within. It is in North Charleston. Side note: Their marching band is awesome. **_

_**In closing the whole deal scene inspired by the beginning of GTA Vice City. If you need to be reminded Luigi is who SK talked to when his mansion was burned down. Well with that I have final question that can be answered in reviews or PM. A lot of people from the Westside read this story regularly and I wanted to ask if they had love for Black hippy and Kendrick Lamar. A sample of their music Black Hippy – Zip that Chop That. They're pretty dope if you ask me. In closing the blunt smoking, banned from instagram, cop shooter-at-er , going to juvenile detention for 60 days, soon to be registered sex offender, father of one and maybe two, 17 year old, Chicago native, Chief Keef will be on the GTA V soundtrack. His hit song Love Sosa will be on the GTA airwaves. Another artist I'm feeling right now is Joey Bada$$. Happy Birthday to me (Jan 25)! Send me your comments, question, pics of elbows, and love. You've been sticky and I've been stelmers!**_


	10. Today was a Bad Day

**STELM: Okay guys feeling really creative at the moment. Decided to get this written up after another MOB chapter dropped. Seeing as the time for delay has expired I will start the countdown to fanfic launch**

* * *

**Today was a Bad Day**

"_The search is still on for the man now identified by the media as the Trippy Cup Bandit. For those just tuning in the criminal was labeled the Trippy Cup Bandit by the largely hip hop influenced site, Planet Rapstar. A bystander quickly uploaded the video of unmasked gunmen shooting with armed masked assailants. The Trippy Cup alias originated from one of the lead gunmen taking a large amount of a solution of medical combinations with the common street name "lean", then opening fire on the masked gunman. The video shows three other people also unmasked hiding behind an overturned car. Due to the poor quality of the video and the smoke of the car accidents and gunfire; the Trippy Cup Bandit is still on the streets. Be aware of a medium-sized black man with an afro in an expensive outfit. If you have any information call us on our hotline." _ I grinned as I saw the video of the aftermath of nearly a three days ago. Saying it was the story of the state would be boastful. Maye on of the top ten on the state news, I gave it a good chance. Number one on the list was the nine-year old boy who got ran over by a train after playing hours and hours of Railroad Runners. Second to that was the moonshine still operation that was running underneath a Garrisville middle school.

"_Another more disturbing act of senseless violence was preformed not too far from the infamous Trippy Cup Bandit shoot out. This one more personal and gruesome. Several masked men were found all in heart freezing conditions, all families of the deceased have ordered their funeral's to be closed casket. Some unfortunate victims with their intestines poured out, others filled with submachine bullets. The identification of some of the victims is still being processed. The killer is not only armed and dangerous but more than likely mentally unstable and sadistic. Street walkers beware." _ I was going to search more of the matter that could put me in the jail for the rest of my life when I heard someone speaking behind me.

"Jia you a hoe! You sell your ass! Don't fucking call me again bitch." A light-skinned man with a tank top, exposing his upper torso that was painted in tattoos, he supported a slim "silver" chain and a silver grill.

"You wit Boomer and dem right?" The man asked now speaking directly to me.

"I don't bang wit dem but I work. Why?" I asked not sure if I should reach for my gun or for a handshake. Things were sketchy around here like that.

"I need some help, need to get up in this bitch house to get my strap back." The man said and as I dapped him up we started walking next to each other. I soon realized that the man was member of the OG Bright Ballas, noting the purple flag folded in his back pocket.

"Tell me about her." I asked as we walked, if I was going to risk breaking & entering and robbery charges I wanted to know why.

"Well we was fucking around a last week and I left my strap, ole girl was trippin and shit so I cut her off. Forgot I left my strap der tho. Need that shit now, fucking lobsters ass niggas tried to roll up on my niggas yesterday. Fucking lobsters tryna come down here and start shit. Had my shit together here. I know this whole fucking hood and these niggas wanna fuck that shit up!" The Balla said disrespecting the Ballin Crib set that had started to move in on a lot of the drug money. The Balla and Kin Nation territory was already conflicting. What the fuck were these bitches doing to fuck it up? It really didn't matter to me though; ever since we had gotten robbed I was on a paper chase.

"I'm not doing this for a fucking head nod. I know this bitch ain't broke." I said deducting how this was all going to play out both in my hands and in my wallet.

"True, she keep her tip money in a can under her kitchen sink." The Balla said as we started to walk up the hill to the girl's house.

"You never told me your name, how I'm suppose to do this shit for you and not know who I'm dealing with?" I asked the OG Bright Balla.

"They call me Mushi." The Balla said, and I couldn't help but be curious.

"How'd they give you that one?"

"Cuz I robbed this Korean place when I first was comin' up. Wasn't just me, my niggas was wit me but I was the one who got the name." Mushi explained the politically incorrect rite of passage he went through to get the name. If they were to call him anything for robbing a Korean place it would be Kim.

"If that's how you earn your stripes, handle yo shit." I replied not taking to kind to robbing innocent people but saying it out loud would be hypocritical seeing as we were just about to rob this woman of her tip money.

"Shit I had to do mo than that I had to fucking rob a bunch a niggas, call me Billie the fucking Kid. I remember had to rob a few niggas for his Mikes just because big homie told me so. I bang for my niggas you feel me bruh?" Mushi asked as he walked alongside me ready to rob a ho for his strap. We only had a few more neighborhood blocks to go.

"…Yah I know what you mean…" I said taking a pause, I knew all too well.

_**March 15, 2003**__…_

_I was dressed a champion, in a multi colored Adopee Track Jacket, some blue jeans, and a pair of black Charles Tylers. Somebody was blasting some Nas on the radio. The cookout was outside and it was in celebration of me, my 15__th__ birthday. This party was close to not happening, my mom had told me that the thug that had been bothering me for a while was going to attack me here, in the little block party thrown for me. More family than friends but I wanted it like that, my family was already big enough, and Unlce Justin could only cook but so many hotdogs._

"_Happy birthday lil cuz." Michael one of my older cousins said playfully jabbing me on the shoulder counting to 15, adding a little more strength to the last one._

"_You fool up cuz. Thanks." I said and I let my cousin take me to an alleyway between two houses paved with gravel. _

_As we turned the corner I saw all the neighborhood kids who lived around here plus a few more of my cousins. As I looked around expecting a blunt to be already in rotation. I soon spotted a bottle of something alcoholic, I didn't drink that much. Too expensive and troublesome. Weed however was always available. Lighters and papers came easy too. Plus you didn't feel like shit the next day._

_I didn't need to be asked I took the bottle and chugged a good volume of it down to the sound of my peer's approval. My extended family and friends drank the bottle dry and before we went back to the cookout we sprayed our mouths with mint to get the whiskey smell off us, even though I was pretty sure that our parents were already either high, drunk, or both. _

"_Marcus, you need to talk to your uncle, he came all the way from Liberty to see you." My mom told me as I entered the cookout scene. I stuffed my mouth with a freshly made hotdog with slaw and chili before I went to dap up my uncle who was only eleven years older than me. He hadn't done too much with himself except get him a few odd jobs in Liberty. I just knew that when I got that age I'd be still in Law School. Studying up to be a lawyer then after being more solidified I'd run for office. _

"_Wassup uncle how's it going up top?" I asked casually bumping his fist._

"W_orking man, it's hard out here. More about you less about me, hows the big day playboy? You still running track?" My uncle __Jermy __asked. _

"_Yah, I'm pretty good." I said not trying to boast. In reality however I'd been better than pretty good in fact my ma was afraid that since I didn't blow a state invitational that one of the local thugs was going to mug me and take the money I owed him, after a lost bet. However I doubted that the thug would try me in an open place like this. _

_That was until I turned around, hearing a disturbance in the atmosphere, I may have been a little tipsy but I knew when something was about to go down. The radio stopped playing __Three Six Mafia's Baby Mama ft. La Cha__ and even my uncle Jermy tried to look past my shoulder to see what was happening._

"_You think you slick fool? You think you gonna get over on me?" Kojack, the thug who wanted my head for the track invitational that I didn't throw was moving through the crowd, I already knew what he wanted. To beat my ass and take my money, so I figured I might as well have a smart come back._

"_Yeanknow?" I said smiling standing up for emphasis. The behemoth of a man still lumbered over to me._

"_You know how big this nigga look?" One of my other uncles said grabbing me by my arm. _

_Then my one of my other uncles (yes I have a lot of uncles) walked past me and walked up to Kojack to try to smoothe out the mood._

"_Just a little family barbecue over here man. Grab yo ass a plate, get yo self something to eat aight? We got potato salad, get you a piece a' chicken, got some hotdogs up on the grill and what.." My uncle starting saying before Kojack forcibly willed my uncle out of his way, my young uncle falling down as a result, "Oh ok it's that type of party."_

"_Ok kid Imma tell you how this's gonna go down. Imma whop yo ass until my mama get tired. Then I'm gonna take all yo little birthday cash for all the dough you owe me, and then Imma walk out of here." Kojack said now in range to throw the first punch._

"_Let me tell you something," I started, getting even closer to the two-bit thug, "You gonna have to take that money from me, the money my fam give me gonna stay wit me, ya'heard?" _

"_Oh yah I heard ya, you wannabe trackstar lookin'…" Kojack started before one of my older friends who was around 17 came from behind me and pointed something that, if I knew my guns, was a 9mm._

"_You gone have to back back, ain't going like that today." My friend said, the crowd around us getting closer and closer but staying a safe enough distance not to get blood on them if he did shoot._

"_You gonna have to get out her' mane before I bust a cap and peel yo cap back mane, foreal." My friend threatened still pointing the gun at Kojack's temple. As he spoke his gold grill shone in the quick flashes of light. _

"_Shoot me then…mane." Kojack ordered after a silence, mocking my friend and, keeping a straight face the whole time._

_There was a tense period of nothing. Nobody moved or said anything, I was just readying me ears and eyes for the shot to fire, nonetheless when I saw my friend pull the trigger a less dramatic event occured. At first I thought the gun was jammed or something but then I saw that it had nothing to do with a bullet. The "9mm" was squirting water on Kojack each time he pulled the trigger. _

_The crowd around us could do nothing but shake their heads I heard one of my aunties telling my friend to "get over here". I could hear the men damning the whole debacle. _

"_Get that shit outta my face!" Kojack yelled knocking the "pistola" from my friend's hands, the older teen backing away into the crowd._

"_Know where were we? Oh I remember." The grown thug and gangsta said coming towards me fist poised to strike, at first I thought he was trying to make me flinch but little did I know this one was foreal._

_The older man's tightly balled fist hit the corner of my mouth with a force that would probably knock and elephant down. I could hear the crowd shriek in surprise. I hit the grown with grace being the last thing on my mind. I could feel the blood filling my mouth so I spit it out on the chalk covered concrete. I could feel the drawings getting on all my good clothes. This hadn't happen before, when the thug came to take my new pair of __Mikes__ as a "pending transaction", a word I doubt he knew the meaning of. He just toke my shoes and left, this time he was alot more seriouse._

_Even as blood dripped out of my mouth I hear my family members telling me to "fight back". I knew I had the strength to get up so I did that, first trying to get a whack at him._

"_My grama hit harder than that!" I jeered getting the kenitic energy to send a rebeliouse punch his way._

_The goliath didn't give me time to strike, he just hit me with another right hook. Although this time I was prepared, and was able to catch the ground with my hands, that still didn't minus the pain my face was feeling._

_I tried to strike with more force this time but due to my dizzy vision I only managed to hit his shoulder, which put me into a dangerous position. Kojack took the opportunity to choke me with his immense hands, my air passageway was already refusing free air passage, and I started to lose the ability to hold my breath._

"_Come on man, come on. Hit me with your best shot." I jeered, the bad gambler only responding with a fierce blow to the temple, that shoulda knocked me out, however I wasn't so lucky._

"_I gotta give it to ya young blood, you got heart," Kojack said wisely, somewhat sagely, "but heart only takes you so far. Let's say we take this old school."_

_Kojack then whipped out a real gun almost simultaneously taking of the safety. This gun wasn't at all like my older friend's this one was real. Its silver body reflected rays of light, and Kojack's face of pure determination didn't help lift my hopes._

"_Pick a number trackstar, between 1 and 10." Kojack said, the gun still pointed dead between my eyes._

"_6." I replied spitting out another mouthful of blood._

"_Aight now that's how long you have to give up that wallet before I start blastin'." Kojack stated, the crowd around us getting tense with fear, I could feel the pressure on me._

"_6…5…4…3…2…" Kojack began counting, I wasn't going to let it end here, over something as trivial as money. I had a life to live, that was in the land of money and success._

"_Alright!" I said giving up. I digged into my denim pockets to get my wallet. It was stuffed with birthday dough and a condom I was planning on using later. _

"_I was hoping I was going to get use this." Kojack said waving his gun in the air before putting it back in his pants, "But it looks about right to me. Good doin' business wit' ya. Oh and before I forget, here's your bum ass shoes." Kojack said throwing me the Mikes my grama had bought me earlier this week for an early birthday present. _

"_Bitches didn't fit anyway." Kojack said staring down at me, almost daring me to make a move so he could get to use his infamous silver body pistol._

"_Excuse me young blood." Uncle Jonas, one of my families more well off members said, tapping the thugs shoulder to get his attention._

_Nobody expected ole church going Uncle Jonas to be a man of violence but before three seconds were over he had withdrawn a true to it's look revolver and sent two hot bullets to the no good thug's foot. After Kojack got the chance to scream out and feel the pain Uncle Jonas flipped the revolver around, now holding the gray barrel by his hands, and pistol whipped the thug directly in his temple. Knocking him out cold. _

_Uncle Jonas kicked the unconscious thug over and went through the killers pocket to find my wallet. He tossed it to me, and I waited for him to say anything, and for a while I thought he was just going to remain silent. _

"_Happy birthday son, now Dee, drop that poor soul off in front of a hospital. Hida get that blood off the ground, I'll be over by the grill getting me a plate if you need me." Uncle Jonas ordered putting his revolver away and hobbling over to the grill. The crowd didn't cheer, and nobody deemed it safe to do so._

_The part didn't ever go back to normal, they just stayed as far away as possible from Uncle Jonas when he was eating his potato salad and tried to cheer me up on my special day. Hey my teacher told me today wasn't going to be a lucky day for me. I mean it was the Ides of March, Friday the 13__th__._

_Later that year my uncle would turn state and move out to an unknown location. He left without giving his family any information on where to find him._

**Present Day, Insomnia Gaming…**

"Don't fucking tell me they got my brother! Get him a fucking ambulance!" Dame yelled trying to push past reporters and police officers. It was true, Dame's brother Nicandro, dubbed Lass was shot multiple bullets as he browsed the Insomnia Gaming's PC section. Or at least that's what Dame had found out so far.

"Excuse me sir, you're going to have to stay behind the yellow tape." An African-American police officer said trying to hold Dame back but it was no use. Dame pushed past, breaking through the yellow tape and to the crime scene where the coroner and other police investigators were trying to place yellow letters, locating bullets.

"Nicandro! Mi hermano, mi hermano por qué Dios? ¿Por qué se lo llevaron? ¡Despierta! ¡Despierta!" Dame screamed out, holding the bloody corpse of Lass. His face cold and pale. Dame closed his eyelids. Tears falling now. Dropping on his hermano's corpse.

After minutes of letting memories of them together, all the tough scrapes they got through together, and all the targets they eliminated. All the money they earned and spent together. The bond that they shared. The brotherhood nobody could replicate.

Then feeling no life or possibility of return for the almost exact copy of himself, he dropped Nicandro in a puddle of his blood. Looking at his hands now, he saw they were bloody. It didn't make Dame feel any better, with his own hands bloody he felt responsible. If he only went with him.

What made it worse was that Dame knew who did this, the fucking Cartel was going to be brought to their fucking knees. Dame swore it on Lass's will, his courage, he betted it on their brotherhood even between the worlds of life and death.

"Cadena Fuerte."

**Around that same evening time, King Street, Roderick's house…**

"Nine up, fuck a shine up!" A member of a local gang called the Boondock Crew. Based out of highway 96, a common drug trafficking route. Their colors were forest camo and they were currently at a war with the OG Bright Balla set. Him being in this neighborhood proved dangerous but nothing was going to stop this young gun from gaining respect.

As of the moment he was drinking a 40 oz, wearing a camo jacket, bleached dark denim that he had sagging half a foot above his knees, and some Doni Lorenzo Chukka boots. He also had a pistol strapped to his waist. You could never be too safe in these cold streets.

That's when something caught the gangbanger's eye. Two suited Mexican men walking outside of a house infamously known as "Rod's Spot". Rod was the biggest Pimp in the area. The only one most people could trust and respect. The Boondock Crewman had even tried one of his girls. Black thick bitch. Name was Kieta, ass so fat he had to come back eight more times to make sure it was real.

At first the banger figured it was nothing more than a few happy customers. That's when he noticed the detonator in one of the Mexican's hand. Fuck! I had to tell Rod that these niggas was…

BOOOOM

The house exploded its splinters going everywhere. Before the gang member could refocus his eyes he saw one of the Mexicans crossing the street to come towards the Boondock Crewman.

PEW PEW

The gangmember was about to fall limp to the headshots but the Mexican caught him and quickly shuffled him into the car. The Mexican who had killed the man put him in the back seat and the duo of Cartel de la Costo members began to pull out, counting this as a deed done well.

"Mayate estúpidos."

**Minutes later at the restruant…**

"Woah what the fuck!" Roderick exclaimed just about to drive into his restaurant's parking lot.

His restaurant literally exploded in an inferno of flames right in front of him. They were already closed for the night but Rod had left his phone in the kitchen and was planning on getting it. The possibilities of that phone not being burnt to a crisp were to little to calculate and Rod really didn't care. That was his fucking business!

That restaurant was him home, his establishment, his only success story in life. If he had ever done one thing right it was to keep the cooking business going and it was all falling apart in his eyes. Everything! He had to call his people; Rod wasn't going to grieve alone.

"Fuck, fuck fuck!" Roderick yelled banging on the steering wheel in anger, his engine still running.

He hopped out the car and went to the nearest phone booth. Rod had some serious calls to dial. He entered the first dollar hoping SK answered.

**Minutes Later on King Street… **

"Goddamn! Who knew waitresses made this type of tip money?" I asked myself as I thumbed through the money I stole while at Mushi's girl's house.

Things didn't go exactly as planed. For one the girl was home so they had to confront her face to face or at least that's what Mushi thought. I did want to mention the fact however that I could have stealthy snuck my way through and got the gun, but Mushi said that wouldn't be enough.

So after the girl and Mushi argued for a good minute they started to get into some type of make up sex session. Taking that time to steal her tip money I waited…and waited. After they were finished with their first few rounds the girl called one of her friends down. She was a little bit more fat than thick but her ass was on point so I figured, why not? I had a good time with the hood rat but could hardly feel myself inside seeing as I had to double wrap just to play it safe. We shared a few blunts and I bid Mushi a due.

So afterwards I met this crackhead and she said she'd suck my…hold up what the fuck?

I then saw the red lights of fire trucks and ambulances. I then saw whose house was on fire. It was ours. The house I had lived in for the past few months. My home. Rod and I's home, my clothes, my money, this was Déjà vu taken way to far.

I thanked God I'd parked my car a little far from the house today. I started walking towards my car hoping nobody noticed me. Nobody did so I got in. From there I assessed the situation. I knew nobody was there. All of Rod's people were out. Dame and Lass were suppose to be shopping together and Rod was usually closing up shop at around this time.

So with that thought in mind I raced to the restaurant. Not at all concerned with traffic rules and regulations. I had to tell Rod what went down.

**Later that Night…**

"Rod what the fuck happened? The house…" I started to say as I came out the car seeing Rod and a few of his loyal employees looking at the fire die down due to the fire fighters who were only there to make sure nobody was hurt and that the fire got put out quick. The money portion of the disaster would come later.

"Where the fuck were you? We called you like thirty times!" Shannon yelled before I could continue.

I looked at my phone to see the missed calls added up to over 50. I was probably still inside that hood rat when they called me the first time. Damn.

"The house Rod." I started again, afraid to know how the disturbed Rod would be.

"I already know, contacts. Did you hear about Lass? He was found dead." Roderick said, so monotone it almost sounded robotic. The last part suprised me, I hadn't heard. To think... he could of killed us months ago and him and Dame would have been somewhere in Liberty relaxing right now.

"Shannon. Tank, me, and the Trippy Cup Bandit over here will hide out at your house. You are unknown without papers, it'll be perfect. Dame has asked to be left alone for the moment. He'll contact us when he's ready." Roderick said quoting the news story he must have heard earlier when reffering to me, droning on as if this was just business as usual in the seedy underworld of South Harroline. The sad thing was that this was the reality of it. They worked as criminals, they suffered losses. No one expected their operation to be smooth sailing forever.

"All good things come to an end I guess." Shannon explained patting Rod's back somberly as we got into our respected cars. We followed a route that involved many empty trails and alleyways. If anybody was following us we'd know it. Shannon lived in a good neighborhood; it was far away from this hell hole.

* * *

**STELM: _Alright guys alot of shit just went down. If your still confused let me put it into focus. Lass is dead, dead dead. Not making a miraculous recovery later or anything, just dead. I may or may not write about his funeral, may be too early in the story to make somber scene like that come up. Don't think is the climax it's only the rising action to something even bigger. For the house and restaurant they're done. No rebuilding or anything, Rod just has to hustle his way out of a situation. Rebuilding isn't an option. So for now Rod, SK, Tank, and Dame (later) are officially homeless, living in somebody else's house. _**

**_Cartel de la Costo is the main antagonist of the series if it wasn't made clear. They are the people Rod owe money and now their lives to. Shouts out to Lottery Ticket (movie) for that SK as a teenager scene. I just figured it would be nice to see SK as a youngin and how he thought his life would play out._**

**____****Three Six Mafia's Baby Mama ft. La Cha** is a song I felt was appropriate at the time. Speaking of music though, Big KRIT is one of the best rappers in my head now. I mean he's so underrated right now it's not even funny. I seriously think his mixtape 4Eva N A Day is one of the best mixtapes ever created, EVER in the history of mixtapes. Test my hypothesis with any other mix tape and I'll gladly fight for this mixtape's credibility. 

**_Mikes are a spoof on Jordans origionated by Zane LongSharks. Insomnia Games comes from alot of things. There is a gaming studio that goes by Insomnia (they produced Ratchet and Clank Goign Commando, arguably the best game I've ever played). There is also a bakery and ice cream place in 5 points not that far from me called Insomnia Cookies they stay up till like 4am. The model for the inside of Insomnia Gaming should resemble a Gamestop's interior._**

**_The Boondock Crew is a spoof on the Country Boy/48 set in my own area. There colors are actually forest camo and it's been so bad that whenever my school plays them they inform people that all camo wearers will be turned from the door in order to prevent gang violence. Doni Lorenzo Chukka are spoofs on Ralp Lauren Polo, even though I think theres already been a spoof of the polo brand. Chukka by the way are the innings/quarters of a Polo match. _**

**_Planet Rapstar is a spoof on World Star Hip Hop. Railway Runner is spoof on the popular Subway Surfer game for smart phones. I made a fanfic to it and it's getting alot of hits and since I pointed some of my fans from that fic over here I guess it'd be fair to point some of my GTA readers to that fic. It's alot shorter than my normal GTA chapters. _**

**_Mushi is based on Fredo Santana, who just dropped a Trap like Mixtape. Now that we're on modeling I've finnally decided who the actors for my characters should be, some of them atleast. SK could by played by Childish Gambino. Roderick would look like Big KRIT. Shannon now that I think on it could easily be Mika Tan a pornstar I discovered on Brazzer not to long ago. Kieta can be inspired by Janelle Monae. Misha (who is still under their captivity) can be a South Harrolinian Amber Rose. Dame could be a Benjamin Bratt._**

**_Jermy comes from a 80s gangsta story I did in my freshman english class. I wished I kept it but it was fun. Just wanted to add that name in their. The story I wrote took place when Jermy was a youngin. Cadena Fuerte is a gang I made up from Honduras. It's were Dame and Lass lived as children before migrating to Mexico and finally to Liberty City._**


	11. Family Business

**STELM: **_**Ok guys just needed to get some letters down. Reading the Cross Fire (Native Gunz) has helped me with a lot of the first part of this just wanted to shout out. A lot of this chapter was written to Earl sweatshirts début album: Earl, Ghostface Killah's new spectacular album: 12 reasons to die (really dope kingpin love story type feel to it) and to Tyler the Creators new WOLF album. Onto some reviews.**_

_**ZANE LONGSHARKS: Yah SK is pretty unlucky. He'll come into some luck son enough though. At least the story is in full swing now. Everybody who I really wanted introduced was introduced. On the whole Lass not being able to defend himself I really wanted that to happen but that'd be kinda hard. I mean a gamestop would be kind of hard to shoot out in. I did type that ending down though. It just didn't feel right to me so it was cut in the long run.**_

_**Time to go back in TIME!**_

* * *

_**Family Business**_

_**-Dame-**_

_Honduras, Tegucigalpa, 1995_

_"I don't have a chance." Lass said as the big suits finished naming the 3rd, 2nd, and honorably mentioned. They were letting the anticipation build for first place._

_Dame kept saying that his mirror image was going to take it all but to Lass his painting wasn't even that good. For one the brush and paint he used were stolen, the canvas included. If anything the people who actually bought their supplies deserved it more than him, or so Lass thought._

_Lass had painted a picture of three teenage boys of Mexican descent walking through a large concrete flood control channel. Behind them waves of color follows. Around the third Mexican there is a yellow glow. This was a personal portrait of Lass and Dame's dead younger brother. He was killed soon after they had moved here. A drunk driver swerved right into him._

_"¡El ganador es, Nicandro Ortega!" The big suit at the podium announced. Lass, previously working the peanut booth with Dame rushed up to stand only taking off his apron before walking up to receive his reward, 2,000 lempira._

_He shook hands with the College big wigs. Dame only hoped that Lass would pursue college. It would make life better for the both of them. Plus maybe they could move to the Lomas del Guijarro type neighborhood were all the people with the power and money resided. They still had two more years to go to decide if they wanted to go to college or not. The college rules stated you had to be eighteen and the twins were 16._

_After the celebration for Dame's brother had ended Lass got back to work. The fair still had hours left until it settled down. The animal and vegetable awards were up next._

_"Dame and Lass Peanuts! Picked right off the plantations of Virginia!"_

_3 hours later…_

_"Time to pack this shit up." Dame said turning the peanut boiler down. We had sold pretty well. The spare peanuts in the bottom of the boiler would serve as our dinner seeing as they didn't want to waste perfectly boiled peanuts. They may not have come from the plantations of Virginia like they said but it got customers raving for them. To the natives, if it came from America it must have some quality to them._

_"¿Por qué sigues hablando Inglés?" Lass asked, wondering why Dame was still speaking gringo tongue._

_"It gives us character. We didn't learn that shit for nothing." Dame spat back securing their money case and taking the safety of his revolver, they had learn a long time ago that life wasn't sacred here and that anybody who just scraping by could get shot and robbed at any time. The twins both carried one, they may not have known how to use it well but all it took was a trigger finger to kill a man._

_"Makes sense." Lass replied in english popping the wheel on the peanut machine on. The twins didn't live to far and the crowd from the fair would make traveling a little bit safer. They made haste rolling the cart, while Dame held the money._

_As they walked they got a few stares from street-walker. It wasn't uncommon for teenagers their age to be walking around but they were Mexicans. For some reason Hondurans had grown to look at other Hispanics with suspicion._

_We had walked about a mile before a truck slowed down past us. These levas just couldn't leave them alone! Dame had his hand on his gun when the window rolled down to show one of the twin's compadre's. Matter of fact him and the driver were members of the same street gang._

_"¿Necesitas que te lleve?" Deedro, a member of the local Tegucigalpa based gang, Cadena Forte, asked, putting his game winning smile on. The twins knew he wanted them for something. They were just waiting for it._

_"Sure… I mean Sí." Dame said trying to catch himself in his English. They had no doubt that Deedro probably didn't know English, hell he hardly wrote in Spanish._

_"¿Por qué los gemelos hablan Inglés tanto?" Deedro asked, inquiring on the reason we spoke so much English._

_"Lo hacemos porque Inglés añade inteligencia a sus palabras normales." Lass explained with confidence that the English language added importance and professionalism in speech._

_"No importa, siempre y cuando no vaya gringo en su familia. Hablando de familia, necesitamos que ustedes dos para ayudar a vengarse de la paliza de Ernesto. Te recogeré a las 9:00." The gang member explained to the twins that they were going to avenge the jumping of one of Cadena Forte's members, Ernesto. The beating had landed him in the hospital and we knew who did it. Killing wasn't going to be the method of transaction but we had to damage him. Maybe flatten a few tires and knock some teeth out. That was the way to avoid getting life in prison._

_"Lo tenemos jefe. Usted sabe dónde vivimos." Dame replied simply telling the gangster that they needed to get home and rest. Lass had just finished connecting the tailgate of the truck with the peanut stand/maker._

_"¡Vamos!" Deedro exclaimed hitting the gas as soon as we hopped in, they sped past the Honduras barrios._

_4 hours later…_

_"Vamos, Eusebio! No estamos saliendo estas putas." Lass called out to his twin brother, Eusebio. Lass was waiting in the small house they lived in. It was a nice place if you asked Lass, as for Dame's opinion, he thought it could be better. The latter twin always having a taste for a finer life._

_Over in the kitchen Dame was looking in the bottom of the empty liquor bottle. Dame refused to think he was worn out drunk like his dad before he got sick, but he did like the feeling, getting drunk was a good time. Dame always preformed better under the influence. He just couldn't drive too well with a few shots down him. Good thing he wasn't going to be driving anytime soon._

_"Ready!" Dame said dropping the bottle in the trash. He didn't have too much trouble maneuvering through his house under the influence. To Dame a half of a bottle was only a starter._

_As the twins got outside Deedro's truck sat stationary in front of the curb. Revved up and ready to go. There were already four people in the truck, the duo didn't know how they were going to squeeze in but Dame guessed they would find out._

_"Rápido, rápido!" Deedro yelled out of the driver's seat. The twins both got in the back. The first thing they smelled was the thick air of weed smoke. Not too hard to figure out what had kept them patient for so long._

_"Pase la marihuana a los pulmones vírgenes." Deedro ordered the current holder of the blunt. The gang member passed it to Lass first. Lass and Dame had smoked before and neither of them wanted to look like puntos in front of the crew. So as the truck pulled off Lass hit the blunt and blew the smoke out in a perfect smoke circle. Dame aimed to impress as well hitting the blunt, then quickly French inhaling, none of the smoke escaping in the process until he blew the smoke out in cloud._

_The blunt went in rotation a few times as we slowly drove through the generally impoverished Tegucigalpa streets. That's when Deedro got the attention of everybody in the truck._

_"¡Escuchen! Tengo este palo especial para los espaldas mojadas en la parte posterior. Se trata de una sustancia especial que le ayuda a mantenerse enfocado." Deedro said, informing the two "wetbacks" that they were getting some sort of special blunt. Lass didn't quite trust this shit though._

_"¿Qué es? No me des ninguna locura." Lass said as they handed him what seemed like a normal cig. Lass knew better, this was a sherm stick. It was the only thing special that could be done to a cig that was normal._

_"Grabar el cig hermano. Mantenerse enfocado. Eso es lo que usted necesita." Deedro said spreading his influence. Coercing Dame's twin brother to light the cig up, he took a hit of it and everybody in the truck knew it wouldn't be long until he was going to start acting weird. Eusebio hit the blunt twice and passed it back to his brother Nicandro who hit it once more and sent the wet cig in rotation. The cig only went around the truck filled with 6 twice before it went out. That was the thing with sherm sticks. You never knew how long they would last._

_"Estamos aquí. Están en el coche en la colina. ¡Salgan!" Deedro ordered and the crew got out doing what they were told, the twins included. A few of the Hondurans were armed. Some with crowbars, others with baseball bats, and somebody handed both the twins a bat and it was decided that, that was going to be their tool of destruction. Lass had no problem with that._

_"¡Ataque!" Deedro yelled and as one coalition the crew of homies in arms charged forward, weapons raised in the air as they traversed the steep hill they couldn't see inside of the car and that either meant that the enemy either had their windows tinted or were hotboxing._

_The Cadena Fuerte crew got started with slashing the back tires. Deedro took the honors to open the car to find that their suspicions were correct, the weed smoke plumed out in a cloud. Dame could hardly see Deedro through the fog of marijuana smoke. Dame did however see Deedro throw a strong punch to the driver's face that sent him rolling down the hill._

_Four others stumbled out the back seat. Two of my homies were already on em. Kicking and swinging. Dame was out there too swing his bat and what not. They all looked angry. Their anger being channeled into merciless beating they gave the other gang members. Lass was just a spectator until an enemy gang member charged at him, a golf club raised high in the air, ready to crack Lass's skull in two._

_POW POW_

_It all unfolded in front of Lass's eyes. One shot hit the golf club as it reached its zenith. The other shot hit the attacker in the leg. The Honduran gangmember fell to the floor with a thud, screaming to the top of his lungs. While most people may have been horrified by the sight Lass just smiled, and held Dame in a tight embrace. His gun still in his firing hand, Nicandro's face was buried into Eusebio's brown windbreaker._

_"Cadena Fuerte! Cadena Fuerte!"_

**-SK-**

_Present Day…_

"Oh shit." SK said, his high persona still numbing his responsiveness. Wuquita, Tank's baby mama, was sprawled out in front of her apartment door.

Tank brushed past me trying to check her pulse. He slapped her a little and she got back to her senses. Almost as soon as she was awake she was hysterical. She kept going on about a masked man and how he took "her". Tank didn't take too long to decipher the black woman's blabbering.

Tank and I rushed to his daughter's room, they just about to walk her to the park. Except when we looked into the room it was empty. No girl no TV playing or anything. It took us a while but we saw a small note on the bed. It read.

_Nigga I need 10,000 you know who?_

The note was written in blue marker on a small piece of paper that must have belonged to the missing girl before it was written. Tank balled the note up as soon as he read over it. I was barely able to read it in its entirety.

As soon as he walked out the door Wuquita bombarded him with questions. Instead of answering them like a normal conversation should go Tank just added more questions that he needed to ask her. They almost looked like they were about to argue when, I decided to break the silence. Work had to be done to find this guy and girl.

"Shut the fuck up!" I started, the effects of the ganja had still not completely worn off yet, "We need pictures of the girl and possible suspects as soon as possible. Fuck petty squabbles we need work work!" Somewhere in there I was trying to impersonate the principal from Hang on Me, I didn't exactly know why though.

The estranged mother and father both agreed to help get people on the lookout. The mother got on the phone to vent to her girlfriends while Tank and I rushed outside. We had enough pictures so that the average street walker could tell her apart from another child.

Tank then told me about our first stop. It was this little spot where all types of cheap shit from speakers to rims were sold. It was just off this major road but it was far enough into the woods for it not to catch the eye of the law. As we walked into the little set up the music was bumping and you had multiple patrons in the crowd smoking weed as they examined the wares. My high was pretty much dead now seeing the shocking turn of events.

We asked around the selling circle, Tank recognizing a lot of them by name and set, but none of them knew anything about the girl. We asked around a bit longer but no leads showed up so we had to leave.

Next stop was a traphouse not too far from our old house. Rod's hood. It had been months since the place had burnt down and the funeral for Lass had also been a thing of the past. Dame however was still in deep depression and still in isolation.

As for Misha she was dead. I would be surprised if the person that kidnapped Tank's daughter wasn't Misha's boyfriend. It wasn't intentional however. Misha had just said something to Shannon on one wrong day. One slash through her neck turned her into a Pez Despenser. We weren't quite fond of her in the long run anyways.

When we pulled up to the Trap House we immediately saw two African American men approach from the side hands on their hip, probably caressing their holster, that was my educated guess anyway. Once Tank got out of the car the men eased up, recognizing Tank and by his face they must have known he wasn't in a good mood.

When we entered the run down house, located in a small black ghetto that rarely saw police attention we immediately felt the smells of cooking. But these guys weren't cooking up their midday lunch, and as soon as we got in we were advised to put on surgical mask. I saw that this trap house was far from empty. Half naked girls and your normal denim shorts wearing hoodrat men were cooking at several improvised stoves. Some were in the actual kitchen, others installed in the walls of the living room. As they slaved away at whippin the birds that would soon spill out in the hood their bodies moved to the dark trap music of the Carcer City born Fredo Santana's new mixtape, Fredo Kruger.

Tank asked around, not bothering the cookers but talking to the money counters and security guards. The head of the house talked to Tank before he could talk to anybody else. Tank explained the situation and the head of the house said he'd keep his ears on the streets if he heard something. The rest of the employees didn't know anything, but wished him and me luck.

The next place was a small studio off Planter's Boat road. It took us a little longer to get there seeing as it was in Mariana but I was sure we could get some good information. Tank knew the guy who produced a lot of beats there. I was sure it would be good.

When we got there the small place was already a hotbox, the smoke was like a screen that we could only wad through. I was pretty sure this wasn't healthy. Once we got into the booth room we saw the local DJ, DJ RHB, working with this new guy named Mareen Kid.

He was just getting into this new beat. I liked the beat personally and his flow was nice. I mean right now he was talking about hotboxing in a van with the team. Something that wasn't too far from what he was actually doing, save the van. DJ RHB saw us walking in and dapped up Tank and me.

"What ya need boss?" The DJ said hitting his blunt as he sat down. He had one ear on us and one ear on Mareen Kid.

"My daughter man, some nigga got her. I'm thinking it's Misha's nigga, Woody." Tank said showing the blunt blowin DJ one of the pictures we got from Tank's baby mama.

"I'm sorry man I don't know nothin'. Sorry to hear it though brah. Come through again later and I might have something for you man. Stay safe." The DJ said solemnly, shaking his head as he saw the picture of the innocent 6 year old girl in the picture.

"Aight, let's go K." Tank said and we walked outside. The next move was to Tank's mom's house, to tell her that we couldn't find her.

"Hey Tank yo daughter missing still right?" An unknown voice asked as we were about to get in the car.

"Yah Dig wassup man, watchu no?" Tank asked dapping up the pumpkin shaped light skin man with hanging dreads.

"Saw this small girl with her pajamas still on walking wit dis man. She looked scared." The man who Tank recognized as Dig said.

"Looks like this?" Tank asked showing a picture of his daughter.

"Yah that's her brah I mean I really don't know how…" Dig started to either drone on from their or I just zoned out. What I was really focused on was this guy who was looking at us. From across the street. He had on some black and red T shirt, some dark denim jeans, some black Mikes, and a Sunbelt City Boot Straps professional basketball team snapback. All this seen through some Mally World bought prescription glasses.

I nudged Tank in the shoulder and tried my best to sound and look casual for our audience, "Everybody act as casual as possible, like we're having fun. There's a stalker in some position I can't name, don't look for him or you'll ruin it." I said with a smile on my face.

"Just pretend like we're talking about something funny." I ordered as we walked down the sidewalk. Let's just say that my current companions were terrible awkward. If they were being observed by a professional then he'd be gone, without a trace. This hoodrat however had stayed, it wouldn't be hard to exterminate him.

"Okay so as soon as we past him he should start to leave. You all just keep talking I'll trail." I said cutting into Tank and Dig's terrible poorly staged comedic dialogue.

It worked just like I planned. The stalker started to leave just as soon as we started to pass him on the other side of the street. Like I thought, he looked back twice. That gave me the signal to strike.

I took the first few quick steps out of the dialogue, I sped towards to closest cover coming in the form of a wooden utility pole. I waited three seconds to peek a look. The man looked back three times before going into a gravel alleyway in between a pharmaceutical store and a trinket store. I waited three more seconds before I went through the gas station parking lot. I made sure to be in cover at all times possible, just in case he tried to look back. I stopped at the mouth of the gravel alleyway, this was too easy. I rushed back into cover and waited three seconds. Then I sprinted through the gravel, knowing that sneaking through gravel was impossible. The man had three seconds before I got to him. One well placed hit to the temple and he was out. It took thirty seconds for Tank and Dig to show up. Then in three minutes we got the man in the back of Tank's car. Then it took thirty minutes to drive to a small parking lot behind a closed for Sundays garden store. He ended up telling us the address of Woody and I told him three words. "Go to Hell".

I shot him three times in the head and kicked him out the door. In thirty minutes the trio were three blocks away from the dealers house. I was just wondering how I could keep this three motive up, it was my lucky number. Shit I just hoped that I wouldn't get thirty years in life for this.

"Okay here's the plan. Dig you stay outside just in case he tries to run. I'll find the girl and Tank you'll handle Woody." I said making it clear on what was going to happen. Dig had no objections to just sitting back and letting things play out.

"You ready Tank?" I asked, but I didn't get an answer nor did I expect one. We walked to the drug dealers house in silence. I wanted to develop a stealth move but I didn't get the chance to tell Tank...

BAM

Went the door as Tank knocked it down his 9mm raised. One dope dealer was sitting there with his shotgun at his side. The shotgun didn't get it's day. Tank put hot lead in the drug runner's forehead. That just gave me some time to me nostalgic . I grabbed the shotgun and aimed it at an upcoming dope man. He got a face full of beads and the dopeman who came in behind him got the same facial treatment.

"Shotgun Kareem huh?" Tank said, laughing to himself as two more dopemen came out of a door trying to shoot at us, they were terrible shots. Tank wasn't.

As we went into what had to be the dining room I saw the dope boy who had to be Woody. Tank's smile was wiped off and replaced by a grimace. I didn't hesitate, I looked around in the rooms.

I ended up in a hallway looking for the girl. I heard breaths, two breaths, music was playing.

"Yah girl I like them young ones." A scrawny old man who looked to be at least 50 and heavy on crack said. I could smell him from the entrance to the without a doubt. The problem was what was happening and what was about to happen. The Crackhead still hadn't noticed I was watching him as his pants were down, the naked girl who had to be Tank's daughter. She was crying, this had to end.

"You sick fuck!" I screamed getting the crackhead's attention just enough so that he'd be able to see who blew his brains out. Luckily the brain matter hadn't gotten on the girl, who knew what diseases that sick bastard was carrying? She was still screaming now. She tried to fight me when I tried to put my hands on her.

**-Tank-**

"So you take my daughter, that's how we do it, what happen to honor. To respect?" Tank asked his 9mm still pointed at the dope boy.

"Money over everything my nigga, it's the motto now! 2013! You're the one who came up with that honor shit!"

_1986 Mariana, South Harroline_

"_Let's do that shit, the niggas who we smokin' right over there bro. Let's hit em out the car!" Woody insisted but Tank wouldn't have any of it._

"_No we hit em where they can see us." Tank said his hands still on the wheel of his pimped out Emperor. The seats were leopard skin, the hydraulics, rims, and the other jazz was present. _

"_You mean where they can shoot back at us right?" Woody said sarcastically, he didn't want to die today, he was too young._

"_Fuck it, we're doing it my way our the high way." Tank said getting out of the car, he had a 9mm in his hands and was about to cause hell, Woody or not._

_Woody eventually fell in beside him his gun at the ready as well. The three men on the corner were GMF members. They had killed Woody's cousin and robbed his house. This was retaliation, this is the justice they had to take on under their own power._

"_Hey assholes. Tell my cousin hello when you see em." Woody yelled poppin two of the GMF members in the face. He was about to shoot the other one but Tank had it. The three boys were about Tank and Woody's age, young. This was the priced they paid. _

_WHOOP WHOOP_

"_Godamn that's a squad car!" __Tank said as two police cars rolled up. Tank was closer to the bodies, Woody was a bit closer to the car, Tank knew both of them couldn't make it. _

"_Go! Go! I'll distract these fucking pigs" Tank yelled shooting his 9mm at the police men who shot back as Tank his behind a tin trashcan. Tank could hear the tires of his car squealing away. That was his sign to run. _

_Tank had never been a fast person, he had learned that a long time ago. He made a right then made a left then made right then another right. He swore he could almost smell the pigs on his tail. The police made a right then a left then a right then a left. Tank had lost the po po by inches and Woody had evaded the cops by a county and a half. _

_Present Day…_

"We! We abided by that shit! You fucking crack slinging son of a bitch!" Tank yelled his gun pointing at the crack dealer. Who had a kilo of said product wrapped up right in front of him on a table.

"Times change and so do people." Woody said not letting any good times mend. It made Tank wonder, _were there any good times?_

"Well it's not every day you see a piece of shit take a shit." Tank said solemnly his gun still pointed t the dope boy. In the moment that Tank closed his eyes Woody moved. He pushed the glass table into Tank who was too late to react, the table falling down with some weight.

Tank could hardly hear it under the stress of holding the glass table off him, but SK had just ran through to save the day.

**-SK-**

"Come back you fucking sicko!" I yelled running out the door with Tank's childhood friend.

I saw the car we were supposed to take off in on the curb right in front of the house. What a rookie move was the first thing that slid through my mental slide show but as soon as I saw the Uzi in Woody's hand did I realize how bad of a mistake it was. The dope boy let the weapon of death rip through the front seat. Eviscerating any type of chance Dig had to retaliate.

I shot at man a few times but I soon realized there was a better way. As Woody struggled to get Dig's dead body out of the front seat I shot at the gas tank. As the bullets sunk into the area around the gas tank Woody tried to move the car. He was almost out of reach when…

BOOOOOM

The gas tank blew up as soon as Woody started to gain speed. The explosion had almost affected me the heat scorching my bushy eyebrows. On the other hand I was doing a hella lot better than Woody and that was a for sure.

"SK wait, I'm handling this!" Tank said as he ran, his naked baby in hand. He passed the now unconscious girl to me who caught her and held her safe as Tank pulled out the same 9mm he used to kill Woody's cousin's killers.

The burning figure of Woody was making the last run of his life, the flames engulfing his whole body acting as a self-destructive suit of flames. His screams ripped at my very soul, it was too late for him now. He was done before Tank started blasting, but at least it stopped the animalistic screaming.

Three shots riddled the burnt skull of Benny "Woody" Johnson. The bullets bounced off the now blackened skull, turning his brain into something that would resemble an overcooked lasagna. The flames died down from the blasted dope boy, and the sirens were wailing.

"Let's go K, got some bonding time I need to make up."

* * *

**STELM: **_**And another adventure of the incredible criminals of SH comes to a close. Just realized I hadn't mentioned the loan shark's name before this fic… Kinda deep fic but it will get a bit more routine and fun next chapter. SK has to get some work done if he plans to move out of Shannon's crib. **_

_**Okay guys the first part of the chapter is mostly based on blood in Blood out. Cadena Fuerte mean strong chains or however you want to translate it. Then you have the **__**Duwop of CTC Crazy feat. Chief Keef - Taking Breathes reference. The whole baby taking coming from the video, I always thought that that was pretty gritty. didn't like the song that much but the message from the video was pretty nice. Nobody's safe in these mean streets. **_

_**Hang on me is a spoof on the movie Lean on me. Fredo Santana is a real good trap music artist. Him and Chief Keef are my favorite rappers in that new trap music genre. Sun Belt City is a Native Gunz Dallas spoof city. The Boot Straps are the spoofs of the San Antonio Spurs. Mally world is a spoof on Wally World, aka Walmart. "Goddamn that's a squad car" comes from Gucci's song, Squad Car.**_

_**Just gonna say it now I was kind of vexed at the end of this story so if it sounds kind of weird it's just how I'm feeling. My bro got his ass whopped by a G-shine nigga. If they only didn't run so deep maybe a nigga could have a fair fight. What niggas going to fight one person when he's backed by eight other grown ass niggas. Don't matter too much though. Me and him gonna turn up later this week so it's all good.**_

_**Happy belated 4/20!**_


	12. If You Aint From my Hood

**STELM: **_**Alright guys and gals, now that all the serious bullshit is over the SK group will find some money. Something they're in dire need of right now. I know I've done like four flashbacks in the past but I got one more in this one. IDK what it is about going into the past with a character it just gets me a little nostalgia for my character. Shannon's gets her flashback this time. I'm starting to like Shannon and I think she's going to start being a major character (not like she already hasn't been pretty major already), I might take it to another level. I mean she'd like the Trevor of GTA South Harroline. Well her and Sticky (whose gonna return in this chapter) might combine to make a good Trevor. Then you got SK who'd make a good Michael. Rod and Tank would probably make good Franklins. Those are just my thoughts. What are yours. Who out of the main GTA V (or the other GTA protagonist for that matter) protagonist do my characters remind you of?**_

_**Native Gunz 13: Yah, I think I forgot to give Roman's Sorrow its credit. Roderick's was kind of inspired mostly by Roman in some way but with a lot more leadership abilities and a better illegal rap sheet. Same thing with Aeolus, he's just like Zero except bitches love him and what not. **_

_**Yah it's more of a younger crowd (14-25) type thing. They're from the country so they rep it. It's so bad now that you can't even go to LR (Lower Richland High School) with camouflage, nor can you go to a game with camo on. Crazy shit.**_

_**I was actually planning on using them (HVK) on this chapter. Very short reference but they're in there. Anybody foreign isn't really accepted in the SC area. Like the Three Six Mafia said, "If You Ain't From my hood get fuck from round here!"**_

_**Most of the younger crowd don't really speak real south like, the older 40 on up people will speak more of the southern gullah type twang. It's the same thing with normal whites they usually speak normal, it's not hard to differentiate a redneck for what they are. BTW all white people down in SC aren't ghetto we got emo, punk rock, preppy, and alot of other type shit. Guy Harvey's pretty popular shirt brand aorud here and just about everybody loves trucking.**_

_**Speaking of bi racial I was listening to mixed woman comedian (Black and Native American) named Candice Thompson just a while ago.**_

_**I hope that wasn't the only Kendrick you listened too! He's a lot doper in some of his songs off of his album like Sing about me, I'm dying of thirst, The Art of Peer Pressure, and Good kid. **_

_**Yah brazzer cost like 1.99 per day and some other cost per month. I just look up free passwords and it'll work for a little while. Until the company catches on that it's a mass account. **_

_**The only real rapper I know is the 48 rappers in my area and maybe Chief Keef and his GBE niggas. Gucci pretty gangsta too, I mean aside from the ice cream on his face. He did kill a man and that counts as pretty gansta at least in my book.**_

_**Well I was thinking about that but I'd rather just give context clues afterwards. If you read back on it you'll see I kind of outlined what the person said in Spanish. Maybe I'll do a little better next time.**_

_**Nah Kin Folk is the Folk Parody. GMF is the old school gullah BMF offshoot. **_

_**Yah there was recently a shootout where somebody who was a junior at my school was involved. He's still on the loose and whatnot but shits starting to hit the fan at my school. Just last week the deceased's cousin tried to stab this other girl from the G (Gonzales Gardens) with some type of shit. Luckily old girl didn't get seriously injured. I knew both of them.**_

_**Equalizer is a new word when talking about a gun; I'm going to have to use it.**_

_**Now to the action, jeez if Native Gunz 13 and Zane Longsharks can update their stories in the middle of final exam season than so can I!**_

* * *

**If You Ain't From My Hood!**

**-Shannon-**

_South San Fierro High School, San Andreas, 2001_

"Get the fuck from round here you fucking FOB fresh off the boat chink! This is our land ping pang! V18 in here bitch!" A latina gang member screamed as the Asian ran through the 800 hallway, the crew of teenage latina girls ready to rip Shannon a new asshole.

She was about to just give up when she saw a teacher's restroom, Shannon knew that those were the only ones that could be locked from the inside. the question was whither it was open from the outside. She quickly reached for the knob, her lucky purple polka dot socks proved true and the knob turned over. She quickly locked herself inside.

Almost immediately the brown devils were at the door banging and screaming at her from the outside. Shannon knew she had to move quickly, the door was only but so thick.

So as she looked for the window she realized it was little higher than she could reach so she flipped the trashcan over and climbed on it. Using her newfound height she quickly unlocked the window and rolled out, landing on the concrete with a thump. It was loud enough for the Vagos to hear and they quickly started yelling, "That bitch's trying to run away! Vamos! Vamos!"

That particular bitch was running for her life, the window had taken her out of the bathroom and onto the school courtyard. She had run through the empty recreational area and was running past the American Flag at the front of the school when she heard the shouts and screams of the Vagos now back on my trail.

"You'll learn not to sling on our turf you straight A puta!" One of the Vagos screamed failing in trying to chuck a textbook my way.

The comment was based on the fact that she did in fact have a 98 average and was a shoe in for class valedictorian. It was also true that just recently she had started selling for the men who helped her get here. She had to pay her debts somehow. She was only halfway done with funding her trip and working half time at Burger Shot wasn't cutting it. She had started to sell some Mary J. Not just some spare nick bags but pounds at a time of Indica, Sativa, Kush, medical, spice, glass pipes, bongs, gas masks, hookahs, pre-gutted tobacco blunts in different flavor varieties, rolling papers, Hash, homegrown bud, THC Pills, brownies, cookies, cupcakes, fudge, cake, Cannabudder, lollipops, firecrackers, and just recently she had put efforts into making a potent Dankatella spread. This no doubt pissed the Vagos off; she had made a few trips down to their "barrio", Douglas Park, and gave some of them what they needed. Now they were at her throat, ride or die for their cholo bretheren.

"Your gonna fucking die you fucking pinky dick sucking lemonhead." One of the Bar Hos yelled. Unfortunately the young Asian's Charles Taylors weren't doing well on the asphalt streets and they were catching up to her; she had to make a stand.

That's when a park came into view, Lilly Grove Park. It was a lot less decadent than it sounded. It was just a two playground sets, three swingsets, and a sand pit. As Shannon ran through the park she could hear the breath of the Vago Girls on her petite Asian tail. She pushed herself through the sand pit and as she reached the middle Shannon removed her book bag, taking care not to break her own glass pipe, Korean Jesus, in the process. Out of her bag she removed a tradition Korean knife and brandished it so that all the Bar Ho's could see how shit was gonna go down. The ring pommelled small blade wasn't even a foot and a half but it would do the job. It was a gift from the Cha Su Pon Kkangpae. The notorious Korean organized crime family had its fourteen stars circling around the handle in bronze. The blade itself was very balanced and easy to control.

When Shannon brandished the sword she thought the cholas would back away in fear but that wasn't even close to the case. All of them were armed. Most had straight razors, a few had bats, and some had similar knives, with less flair of course. Shannon counted thirteen girls she had to take out.

"Guess you guys didn't learn the Marquis of Queensberry rules down on 18th street yet huh?" Shannon said mocking the Los Santos's infamously poor education system.

"Shut the fuck up punta! You're going to die slow bruja!" One of the Hispanic chicks said before charging at Shannon with a lead pip.

The weapon was heavy and clumsy and as she raised it to strike me I just executed a high full roundhouse kick. The tip of my Charles Tylers hit her eye and the force behind the kick with added weight of the lead pipe caused the girl to fall over in tears holding her already swollen eye.

Two girls came at me next, one with a razor, the other with a bat. I parried the bat swing with my blade and used the bronze pommel to strike the razor wielding girl's wrist. This caused the razor to jump out of her hand. She finished the job by using the ring pommel to break the Vago's jaw, adding another two strikes to her temple to knock her. I spun the blade to my right to parry the batter one more time, this time I sent a firm knee to her gut and as the girl bent over I side kicked her in the temple to knock her out as well.

Another latina girl with a razor attempted to get the jump on the slit eyed stoner from her right but it was a failure. Shannon had the eyes of an eagle with her frame glasses. Plus the adderal she popped before lunch gave her an added sense of attention.

Shannon gave the girl a quick high kick to the nose; I heard the crack and knew I had broken her nose cartilage. I followed up with another punch to then nose, injuring her even more as she fell back holding her bleeding nose.

Another Vago ran towards me with a razor in hand. She tried to strike me with a fatal slash to the neck but I blocked with my much longer blade. In retaliation I swung my front heel across the V18's kneecap. I could see the ligament tear and kneecap dislocate. I then launched a barrage of MMA side roundhouse kicks to the teenage girl's ribcage. Shannon finished her off with a swinging two-handed fist overhead strike to the forehead.

"Douglass Park Locas, pinche mamon! Bow down to the Vagos, Juandy Girl! V18! Remember that shit!" One of the girls said screaming her set as her and two of her compadres came at Shannon all but one armed with knives. The one who didn't have a knife had a bat.

"Come at me then Bar Ho bitches! I'll take all you! Come on!" Shannon taunted back spinning her blade around in a provocative fashion.

"Kill this bitch Pretty Girl!" One of the girls said as the batter who must have been Pretty Girl started to come towards me her steel bat at ready.

Her first swing caught the black belt martial artist off guard; _damn this bitch is far from pretty, try Man Girl or something._ The force of the swing almost knocked the wily Asian off her feet. The second swing nearly busted her brains open but instead she ducked and the steel bat swung above her. The Latina took the chance and kneed Shannon in the face. It no doubt fazed the Asian but she recovered, backing away before the Latina started to charge at the her. Shannon had to take drastic maneuvers.

She ran towards the Latina as well, Shannon's feet light and agile. Pretty Girl however was heavy and clumsy, Shannon knew exactly how to end this. Pretty Girl swung at the Shannon's "lemonhead" and with complete fluidity Shannon ducked and spun, using her momentum to spin behind the heavy girl. With the 14 star blade Shannon stabbed the Vago in the center of her lower back, her upper back, her exposed light brown neck. The short blade penetrated the girl's leather jacket with ease and the blood soon started to pour out her wounds, the neck wound was what ended her.

As she fell to the sand blood turned the sand around her dark red. Her friends looked at Shannon with a look of fear and anger. I knew that's where it ended. If I stayed longer it'd be more bloodshed, they knew that the Asian had made her point, she was nothing to fuck with.

The halftime Burger Shot employee was late and she buried her blade back in her bookbag. She started to run off and as she did she could hear the cholas screaming in mourning. They soon turned violent towards Shannon, who knew that this wouldn't be the end of this.

"You're gonna fucking die for this bitch! ¡Mi hermano es un asesino! Un asesino!" One of the girls screamed as she hovered over Pretty Girl's dying body, swearing that her brother was a killer.

Shannon ran until she could no longer hear the sirens. She had realized that she had a few cuts and bruises but she was all good overall. At least a lot better than Pretty Girl. Shannon knew she'd see some street justice or retaliation for this and that she would probably need to flee the state soon, seeing as there were witnesses. The straight A stoner had to wait however; graduation was in a few days. Right now however the tiny Asian girl needed to get to work before her asshole of a boss got to bitching. So she lit a spare blunt of Afghan Kush that she had in her book bag and started walking to her perfectly average and monotonous burger flipping job.

**-SK-**

I swore I heard something. Something in another room. You never knew what you'd find in Shannon's house. Most of it was weed and an assortment of melee weapons but she had also been a fan of collecting her "patient's" panties and boxers. She also had some kinky stuff in her closet I dare not mention.

Being as stealthy as possible I rolled off my temporary inflatable bed not making a sound on Shannon's green rug covered floors. I didn't make a sound as I blended in with the shadows the only thing covering my healthy tatless dark brown body, a gray pair of boxers.

As I looked around the house. I saw Shannon in the kitchen. I quickly put my back to the wall, hoping not to be discovered, she was awake, doing something… active. It seemed that she was practicing with something. From what I could see in the moonlight that was allowed in by the open kitchen window. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw that she was practicing with a blade that had something shiny on the end of its handle. I'd never seen the sword before nor did I know that Shannon knew anything about martial arts or anything of the Asian shit you see on cheap 90s Kong Fu shit you see on VCR.

From what I saw now she was a pro. I didn't know if she was high or what but she was sure as hell good at what she was doing, for whatever reason. Her execution was flawless as she fiercely battle an invisible enemy. Satisfied on my little sleuthing adventure I retreated back to the room where me and Rod were confined to. Rod was knocked out on the bed and as I rolled back on my inflatable bed I wondered where Shannon learned to do shit like that.

_Later that Morning…_

"You think Dame's coming back?" Shannon asked directing her question to me. Seeing as I was the first to know the twins.

"I'm pretty sure he will, he doesn't have much else to do other than working heist. I'll give him a couple more weeks." I proclaimed, slicing some cheese on my grits.

This was a rarity in this house. Shannon rarely used this table for breakfast. She even more rarely made grits. It was just not something she was too fond of. Tank, Rod, and I were eating up. Sticky, who had just got evicted from his apartment a week ago, made his sausage, eggs, and bacon into a breakfast sandwich. Shannon just sat there cutting up her omelet, eating it in slices. She had made her omelet "specially for her". I could smell it from where I sat. I guess a stoner gal had to make her highs meet.

"So Sticky, had fun sneaking in last night?" Shannon asked the party animal. His face was to die for.

"Uhhh I don't know what you're talking about." Sticky said confidently, probably thinking Shannon was just bluffing to see if he would own up.

"Hmmm well then I guess it was an assassin trying to kill us. I'll kill him on sight next time. Should be easy, I heard him throw up before he climbed in the window." Shannon said coldly, eating another slice of her special omelet. Sticky blanched, almost turning snow white.

"Okay Okay it was me, but you can't stop the Rave baby in action!" Sticky exclaimed like raving all night was a sacred lifestyle instead of a recent fad.

"Use your keys next time or you'll be evicted from this house too." Shannon said, her voice betrayed no bullshit. Sticky just looked at his plate in disappointment.

"Where'd you move your daughter Tank. Somewhere safe?" Rod asked, changing the subject, he had just finished his second plate.

"Yah she's up in Liberty with my grama. She'll be safe there." Tank replied a lot calmer than I expected.

"Sorry we couldn't keep her here Tank. She'd be in even more danger here than anywhere." Shannon said apologetically. Tank waved it off, he knew the circumstances.

I was finished with my plate when I heard my phone ring from beside my now deflated bed. I got up from the table and saw that it was unknown number from Mariana.

"Yah, who is it." I asked bluntly, I was in a good mood however, you could never be mad with a full stomach of cheese grits.

"DJ RHB. Aeolus gave me your number. Need you to hit up the studio before 3. Come in black. I'll tell what this is about when you get here." DJ RHB said before hanging up, not giving me the chance to accept or decline.

_30 minutes later…_

"Bout to head out." I said in my all black attire as I was going to head out the door. I had thrown on a black crew neck sweatshirt that had "Smoke me I'm Dope" in light green clouds. I also sported some gray jeans and black Adopees with white stripes and green laces.

"Hole up kin folk we got our black asses on the news again. Third time this week!" Tank said in cheerful spirits, calling me out on my all black clothing. Indeed as I looked at Shannon's wall mounted flat screen we were on the news once again.

"_The murderers of the late known crime boss known by most as Woody are still out on the street. The funeral for the criminal will be at an undisclosed location. Many members of the drug pusher's clique will be in attendance as well as close family members. The funeral will be heavily monitored by the local police force. We have been notified that the funeral will be closed casket one late Sunday Morning. More on this story as we learn more."_

"_Now onto further news another "peaceful" protest outside the newly built aMAZzen building in Hentown ended in a standoff between possible GMF members and the police. Two GMF members were killed, along with 12 policemen and four squad cars. The co-founder of the GMF gave the public his statement late last evening."_

"_As a spokesperson of the Gechee Multimedia Family I'd like to remind the public that we don't condone violence of any kind. Our protest are peaceful and orderly. The band of criminals who defended themselves against the plight of the police were of a different sector. Every law abiding citizen of the GMF retreated to their cars and helped the police in all ways possible. We are a family and we serve the people of South Harroline." The co-founder of the GMF, Chief Duke, said obviously reading a teleprompter. He was the founder's younger brother. Chief King, the older brother and leader of the GMF, was in the pen right now on tax evasion charges. _

"Don't try no crazy shit and crash that funeral. We can't afford any more attention than we already have." I said realizing that I was being sort of a kill joy; I just didn't want to be doing time in the pen for Tank's recklessness.

"Chill, I only wanted Woody and my daughter, I don't give a fuck about his little band of dopeboys. Hope they all turn on each other and die in a cold grave." Tank said, sounding like he cared more about the dopeboys than he let on.

"Whatever. I'm gone you need anything?" I asked Tank as I walked towards the door.

"Yah you going to the studio right? DJ RHB's?" Tank asked, although I'm pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Yah" I replied, wondering this was going to go.

"Send him this for me." Tank said as he went to the fridge. Out of the bottom drawer he got out a big jar of what I at first thought was weed. A very large jar of weed. As he took the bag off he showed me what I recognized as moonshine.

"Tell him it's the apple pie of the south." Tank said handing me the heavy glass jar of illegal alcohol.

"Got it." I said as I toted the jar to my car. I rolled the jar on the floor of the back seat.

I got into the front of my car and keyed it up. The sound of Tyler the Creator's Tamale almost made me jump out my seat. I then turned changed it via my MYphone, which was currently plugged into the Aux. Next thing that turned on was Real Recognize by Waka Flocka coming from his Duflocka Rant 2 Mix tape. Deciding that that was good riding music I pulled off. Awaiting the actions of the day.

_Sometime later on Planters Sole Road, PSR GMF recording studio…_

I balled up a bag from Terrorist Coffee. I stopped by there before I got here. I had gotten 3 Al Qaeda Cookies, a Molotov Fireberry muffin, IRA Bleu Cheese Wrap, and a Freedom Fighters Frozen Frapp. May have been a great place to pick up suburban white girls but he was on business now and coming in on time meant coming in just a little early.

I keyed off the engine as soon as French Montana's street tale, No Sunshine, concluded. I could only wonder what wonders his new album, Excuse my French would sound like. If only French worked on his lyricism he may be a force to reckon with. He could get deep with some of his lyrics though. As I closed my car door I could only wonder how Mareen Kid could compare to the people who were already top doggs in the game. Rappers such as Kendrick Lamar, Spaceghostpurrp, Joey Bada$$, Action Bronson, Juicy J, Twista, Drake, and even Rick Ross had their theme. I wondered what Mareen Kids special knack was going to be. Maybe fast rapping like Busta Rhyms, hood rap like Chief Keef, hype beats like Waka, thoughtful street beats like Freddie Gibbs, or dark beats like the early Triple Six Mafia or Odd Future; the options were limitless, but most already taken and copyrighted.

I tried to open the door but it was locked. I looked at my phone, _2:45_. I wasn't late, so where the fuck was everybody? I knocked on the door a few times wondering if the DJ had just went wherever he was going without me. That was until the door swung open for a short a stubby dark skinned man armed with an Mac came hobbling towards me. The hand-held tar black handgun at my nose.

"Who the fuck are you nigga? Rolling up on a real fucking nigga spot like this. You bangin' my nigga? Fuck you bangin' nigga?" The older man had me, I couldn't reach for my weapon or else my brain would be turned into swiss cheese in seconds.

"Whoah slow down killah he's cool. He's Rod's brother from up north, cool with Tank and all dem. His names Kareem." DJ RHB said showing up in the nick of time.

"Sorry for coming at you crook side young blood. Blood pressure getting high an shit. My names Reginald people call me regg. I been ridin' round for the hood since I was 16. Shit done changed but I've stayed the same, cept' my arthritis." Regg laughed at his own joke and sat down in the chair beside the door. Likely to terrorize the next person to knock on the door.

The screen of smoke nor the music flowed through the atmosphere. Instead it was a somber mood. Something was going down. I followed DJ RHB as he led me into the main room. Mareen Kid was out of the booth donning a red North Harroline Showskins tank top with camo jeans and some pinkish tan ProLap Foamposites. He was tatted on his neck and his arms, he also had a juice cut, something quite popular among the local Mariana youth. He had the making of a great rapper. Now if I could only hear his flow some more.

There was a few other black clad goons that I had no doubt were Naluba Riverside Goons, a Kin Nation set. Then there was this red bone female who had to be a mix of black and some other race. She wore a simple black tank top with black jeans, a pair of white Adopees, and a black paisley flag wrapped around her upper arm. She sported a tattoo on her shoulder that read "Naluba Goon 4 Life" in italics. She had a spade tattooed on her the front of her hand, her gang's symbol.

"You wanna stare at me for a little longer _dope boy_ or you want to undress me with your horse eyes a little longer?" The woman snapped and through her voice I could hear a little Asian accent, her hood speech overcame everything else.

"Don't worry about Desarea she's just hostile to new comers." One of the goons said as he took in the whole ordeal.

It took a while for the most capable Naluba Goons to gather in the studio. This was a lot bigger than I had thought. It was 5:30 when Regg got the attention of his clique of killers.

"Hey all yall shut the fuck up! HB got some shit to say. K?" The OG said and the crowd of rowdy gangbangers instantly got quiet. The short and stubby criminal was known to discipline people who crossed him severely and without mercy.

"Aight, I know yall know what's going on here. Yall know why we had to get all of these niggas in one building, we aint come to talk about fighting, tonight we get real revenge." DJ RHB started letting his words soak into the solemn black clad killers' soul. As I looked around I saw that the youngest of them looked to be 14, the oldest around 45. Somehow LJ had convinced Aeolus to tell him where I was going to be and he drove here. He had got his car from a junkyard and paid a group of his high school friends to hook it up for him, it almost rivaled my ride. Where he lost luxury he added protection and usefulness. He was beside me now, I told him that no matter what he thought he was going to be stationed solely as a driver.

"Now I know these niggas from North Crescenta don't give a fuck about us that's why they getting the BHCs all the way from fucking North Harroline to fuck us over. They'll sneak us if we don't do shit. They're bitches, they came up on those two niggas while they were playing ball. Look at them niggas!" DJ RHB said pointing at two of the Naluba Goons, who were mostly healed up at this time, but their scars still shown true in some places, "They shot at three of our boys in the last month! One of our boys didn't make it and I know he looking at us now and wondering why the fuck we sitting around here doing nothing cause I'm tired ah doing nothin'! If we don't stop this shit here they fuck over every South Harrolinian Gang from the OG Bright Ballas to the fucking Cottonball Mafia! This is our turf and they're outsiders here. This is our home, our promised land. They think they're good, they think they can beat us. They make diss tracks put them on the internet and expect us not to respond. We'll do talking once the battles done. We sent them a little present earlier today. Some 3 6 Mafia type beat with Mareen Kid on the track type shit. If you aint from my hood type shit then get the fuck outta my hood type shit. If they didn't get the message and take they sorry asses back to their state then its war now. I want them niggas gotten, I want them laid out, because the nigga need to be gotten, need to be laid the fuck out. They need to be taken off of here, taken off this state and this earth. You heard me. We gonna do it to these niggas, we gonna do this shit to the world!" The ring leader got the cheers of his goons. They yelled and screamed there set, all saying the same thing in unison, throwing up the spades. I warned LJ against throwing it up, he would be in danger of catching a V and making all this negative energy turn on us.

"Alright so Me, my high trained killer Kareem and his protégé LJ, Regg, and Desarea will hit these niggas at their studio spot, where most of them are held up. Trout'll tell you the places and whose going where. Make sure yall packing heavy, no fist fighting we tearing these niggas down!" RHB said getting a roar from his comrades who started to look at me with curiosity and suspicion, they knew I wasn't down for them or they'd have seen me before. _If he's a trained killer who says he won't turn his guns on us?_ They soon disregarded their curiosity to flow towards the goon who talked to me earlier.

"Alright K let's go, I don't want them niggas to turn pussy and run on home. Imma bust a cap in one of these niggas tonight." RHB said and him and the rest of little group piled into LJ's ride. As he sped out of the studio's packed parking lot he let his exceptional driving skills show, where the fuck had he learned how to do this?

_3 hours later…_

"Aight them fools got their little set up two blocks down and to your right, in a studio building called Beach Head Studio Building. Everybody has to cover their position. Aeolus already told me that you got skills in stealth Kareem so that's what I want you to do. You climb up the roof and try to find an entrance point from there. If you can't, text me, if you can text me when you're absolutely ready. We'll be in the car until we know you're in position. Once you're in we'll give you four whole minutes to find a proper place to start blastin. While you're waiting I'll barricade all the emergency exits and windows. I'll come back to the front and get in the front with Regg and when you hear shooting rush them from the back. There 3 stories here and no elevators so it won't be too hard to flood them out. While everybody's shooting Desarea you will handle the safe, we got somebody on the inside who left earlier who said that these niggas got most of their funds here. It's in a room on the second floor. You open their safe and when we're done shooting we'll go in and help you get the money in sacks. LJ if you see anybody tryna run out somehow you drop em. We can't afford any survivors. If the police roll up drive around a bit then when we call you drive by right quick and we'll hop in, whatever you do don't panic." The Goon squad nodded understanding their instructions.

All five of us got out of the car and got some body armor on and mask on. We also picked out some artillery for this little heist. Regg and RHB got dibbs on the heavier weaponry seeing as though they were doing the most shooting, RHB choosing a Ruger Mini-14, Regg choose a bigger gun, a M60. Desarea chose a twin pair of Intratec TEC-DC9s and I being an infiltrator this time chose a colt M1911 and a Mac-10 both silenced. The pistol was on my front hip while the machine pistol was on my back strap. LJ took the left over berretta seeing as he'd probably see the least amount of action. We all got added ammunition and I was given the go-ahead to start this mission off.

I walked as inconspicuously as possible at 9:00. The Northeastern Crescenta had died but only a few minutes ago. The ghost town had only a one car go by every other ten minutes. This would be a piece of cake to get away with. That's if I could get the jump on them without spoiling the whole heist.

As I walked by the Beach Head Studio Building I saw a camera on its right side where there was an alley and one above the studio's entrance. I texted RHB the info and he dismissed it, "he already planned on it."

I walked across to the side of the street where the studio was only when I was past the studio and the view of its cameras. I scoped the buildings that I walked by out to try to find a reliable climbing surface. I soon found it in an only slightly rusted downpipe located only a few building down from the three-story studio.

I cut through a small alleyway in between a two story karate dojo and a recently closed three story ballroom and theatre building.

The rust gave me a good grip on the gutter and the bolts that connected it to the brick wall served as rest spots for my feet. Unlike in most movies the gutter proved reliable and after I reached the top I rolled on top of the building to catch my breath. I hadn't done any of that recently. Now it was time to do a little free running.

I decided just to wing it and I ran forward avoiding the air conditioning units and water towers. I jumped and rolled over a slightly elevated building. The rats and water bugs scattered as I ran on the condemned roof. I couldn't worry about the safety hazards of my situation, seeing as a large wall lay ahead of me could prove to be fatal if not traversed right and there was no turning back from here. I decided to run towards an air conditioning unit and I jumped on it with my right leg and using that same leg to elevate towards the wall that was the other building. My hands latched onto the edge of the roof and I used my upper body strength to roll on top of the building.

I was about to continue my free run when I saw two squatters tweaking beside a water tower. They spotted me instantly. Even with the limited visibility I could see the red eyes of the tina tweakers from my position. They only grew as the couple started to run towards me I tried to warn them but they kept approaching, so I whipped out my silenced pistol and buried to hot ones in their head. This is why I told LJ to not do drugs, just smoke weed.

However I was a businessman and while I personally wouldn't touch the shit I knew that that same shit could get me a C-note in seconds if I sold it to the right people. So I turned on my MYphone's flashlight and searched their sleeping bags for some more of their speed. I ended up finding like ten baggies and a few hundred dollars probably intended for another fix. I stuffed the meth in my left pocket, along with my wallet and keys, then adding the methhead money to my already fat wallet.

Seeing that that was already done I walked over to the edge of the building to find that it was only a few meter drop to the roof of the building. I jumped as lightly as possible down to the rooftop of the Beach Head Studio Building.

I landed softly on the building and sent RHB the text that I was in position. I stopped a moment to admire the music they were playing, I instantly recognized the sample as one from Angel Haze's Lofticries. It kind of made me respect the gangbangers a little more. Atleast they had a good taste in music. Personally I liked her song "Element" than Lofticries, mostly because Element told a story about her life starting from the pulling of her umbilical cord, losing her religion, and even her struggle to fame. I was glad that she got her spot on the Freshman class of 2013.

Once I returned my focus back on the mission I realized that now I had to find a way into the building. I looked over the edge of the building, now having a bird's eye view of the alleyway below. Luckily the cameras only looked from right to left, or I'd have screwed the rest of the mission up. Luckily the North Harrolinian gang didn't think that far. I looked below me to find a large enough glass window. I saw that the light was on and what I saw made me cringe. It was a younger woman of around 17 or 18 who was knocked out on the floor of a janitor's closet, being raped by some Beach Head hoodlum. This had to end.

I'm sure that with the music being blasted the rapist wouldn't hear me open the window. So I lay on my belly and inched the window open. I waited for the right moment, flipped on my back, and grabbed the bottom of the window. I let my self fall and I did a flip using my grip on the bottom of the window as an axis. The tips of my Adopees landed on the side of the brick building not making a sound. I climbed through and before I hit the floor I had my pistol out.

As soon as he turned around I blasted his brains out. The girl just laid their unconscious. I could understand why they drugged her, dat ass was magnificent, not for me though. If a girl wanted to fuck then she'd do it with her consciousness. Plus the girl's reaction is what makes the sex fun.

"Hey nigga you still fucking?" One of the gangstas outside asked and I knew I couldn't mimic the guys voice so I just slapped the girls ass hard a few times. The guys heard the slaps and laughed.

"Damn nigga you must be happy as fuck, cheesin and shit. You got two more minutes nigga." The guy on the other side said and I knew that was enough time for RHB to get the emergency doors locked. I texted RHB and he texted back saying that he's almost ready. I told him that I had two minutes and that'd I'd have to start killing. He responded understanding, saying he'll start shooting shortly after I texted him.

So I got to work moving the gangbanger's dead body out of the way so the ganstas on the other side wouldn't be too alarmed. They'd have to search the room a little more and when they did I'd catch one of them slippin' and hold him hostage as a human shield. I'd shave some of their numbers off without wasting any of my body armor's fabric. I then remembered that I might as well take the silencer off my machine pistol, it wouldn't serve any purpose when the big boys downstairs started blasting.

"Aight nigga you better have nut on that bitch already!" The guy on the other side said as he started to unlock the door. I hid in a corner close to the door. The light skinned BHC walked in, almost instantly startled that his fellow BHC wasn't fucking the shit at the barely legal rupee victim.

He walked in the room a bit to look at the fallen girl. I took this time to get behind the BHC and put my now unsilenced machine pistol to his head. He was instantly hit with surprise. I didn't waste anytime. I kicked the janitor's closet door open to see a line of niggas waiting to get their turn. They wouldn't have the chance.

"Nobody fucking move or I'm blasting this mothafuckas head off!" I asked waiting to hear the gunshots from the bottom. The faces on the BHC's was priceless, they had their screen of smoke just like RHB's did. Guess we caught them lacking. This was the price of negligence.

TIKA TIKA TIKA TIKA PIT PIT PIT TIKA TIKA TIKA TIKA PIT PIT PIT

That was the signal. So I started blasting with my machine pistol. The blood bath in front of me looked like a symphony of violence and gore. Their heads bust open like watermelons! Only a selected few of their shots hit my unfortunate human shield.

I disposed of him and got into cover.

**-RHB-**

"Yall niggas aint from my hood! Gs up Naluba Goons up in this bitch!" DJ RHB screamed as he started letting loose with his assault rifle. The BHC scattered in front of them, clearly not ready to be ambushed. Some of them let a few rounds off before being mowed down by either RHB or Regg.

"Who the fuck these niggas is?" One of the in cover BHC's said over the gunfire.

"Yall thought yall could diss us huh? Yall remember that shit don't yah?" Regg said as he moved forward, his heavy assault rifle killing niggas every other second. The smoke that filled this studio reminded RHB of his own studio. We were a little bit more fortunate the goon guessed.

"Naluba Goon Killa!" One BHC said as he heroically ran down the stair his AK-47 in hand. Both the gun and the man got swissed. The duo reloaded and moved on. They searched through the first floor and cleared all the studio rooms. They even caught a nigga on the toilet seat.

Desarea then came in to try to search for the safe. The trio walked up the stair slowly making sure that it wasn't a trap. Desarae blind fired a few times and ran out her remaining clip. She pulled the trigger a few times just for the Beach Head Crowns to think they had her gotten. For added effect she loudly ran down the hall, she screamed as loud as she could over the shooting that was going on in the top floor with SK.

The BHCs took the bait without missing a step, the only step they missed was the whole flight of stairs that Regg and RHB were waiting on. When the BHC came running down they let their bullets fill them up. Too easy.

"Naluba set niggas! Bow down Bitch Head niggas! Bout to turn up on yall bitch niggas, bout to give yall niggas the business! Spades up! BHCK in here pussies!" Desarea screamed out as she blasted some of the remaining BHCs.

The trio finally got the second floor and shot at a few in cover bangers. It wasn't that hard to mow them down. The battle was hardly fair. The Naluba Goons were just better armed and more skilled. With the 2nd floor cleared they started searching. A few offshoots from SK's little battle got caught in Desarea's sights. She mowed them down remorsefully.

**-LJ-**

_Damn they were fucking shit up_. LJ thought to himself as he had driven closer to the building seeing as though they must almost be finished. He didn't turn off the ignition this whole time, just to be safe. He had the radio turned to the police radio. A call had just been made. They didn't have too long, but they had time.

That's when two cars pulled up in front of the studio. Leroy knew this had to be trouble. He opened his door and fired his Beretta at one of the windows. He had never killed anybody but from the animalistic wail that came after he shot a few of the 2nd car's windows out he figured he just did.

"Die muthafucka!" A man with all red on yelled as he got out the car. The teenager decided to get behind the car and to try to grab a Molotov from the back seat. LJ opened the door and found them on the floor of the back seat. He grabbed two and lit one on fire. The early career driver threw the first one at the second car and the second at the first car. A few of the men caught on fire, the others scattered leaving them open for shots with LJ's Beretta. The highschooler counted four kills with those gone. LJ was already too deep in this already.

Then something LJ had not considered happened. The fire hit the gas tank and the cars blew up. Causing the building to rock and the entrance to catch on fire, LJ knew that the rest of the building and his friends would soon follow. He wanted to warn them but RHB had already texted his phone. He explained what happened and the DJ told him he was a screwup among other things and that he should go around the block to the back of the studio to pick them up.

**-Desarea- **

"Damn Kareem it's your fucking fault if we get die in flames here!" Desarea said as she started working on the safe. She had her kit all out. She had to be quick or else they'd get no money.

"Stop complaining and hurry up!" SK shot back. It was clear that the kid was like a son to SK, and he was just teaching him the ropes.

"Plus he stopped some BHCs from catching us from behind." RHB said teaming up against the female G. Some bangers disregarded her gangsta when they heard she slept into the set. She had proved her worth afterwards though, only sleeping with Naluba Goon niggas, even showing some of those nappy headed doe boys how to really have a good time other than shooting Ballas and smoking weed.

She got into this life in a "less than honorable" way. When most people think of getting fucked in they think it's nothing but a roll in the hay but all bad banger bitches could tell you that getting fucked in was no pleasurable matter. During the sex there was no cuddling, no softcore shit. The Gs that put her in decided to fuck her in behind the trap house. The mattress was covered in bugs and musk. She went through scratching, choking, slamming, slapping, gagging, and domination.

"Get off my ass" Desarea said ending the conversation by mentioning something she had a lot of.

She could feel SKs eyes burning into her panties but he wasn't down with her set, that meant no play.

**-SK- **

_Oh shit I forgot the girl!_

I ran up the now highly unstable stairs and went through the burning building. The fire hadn't reached the 3rd floor yet but it wouldn't be too long. It was getting toasty and it wasn't just me. The vest, straps, ski mask, and long sleeve all black outfit didn't help me any.

I walked through the dead bodies, picking up some wallets, and emptying them into mines as I did. I'd never say no to money, what could I say? We were here for the money. I scavenged in haste, and a soon as I had gotten to the janitor's closet I had amassed the small fortune of 2,653. These BHC must have been slinging rock heavy to have all this dough.

I opened the janitorial closet and found the naked girl was in a daze sitting on an overturned mop bucket, shivering and staring at the dead man in the corner.

"Hey." I said, the girl reacted instantly, falling off the mop bucket to try to cover herself.

"Listen we have to get outta here. Can you walk?" I asked hoping to get a response out of the girl.

"Yah I got it." She responded and as we walked through the studio's hallways she threw up, seeing all the dead bodies, it must have been her first time, for a lot of things.

We walked back down to the 2nd floor and the crew was already packing their bags when RHB spotted the naked girl.

"Damn K how'd you find her?" RHB asked dropping his bag in mid packing. The rest of the crew caught on and stared at the older teen.

"They date raped her upstairs. They were in the middle of a rape session when I busted in." I explained and the girl nodded in agreement. She may have understood what happened when she woke up to find her vagina stretched and a bloody headed naked man in the corner.

"Ok K just take her to the car. You two grab these bags. We'll be down in a second." RHB said and we both grabbed bags, she used her's to cover her deflowered womanhood. I couldn't help but look just a little as she grabbed some of the bags of money. She had ass that was for certain. If I saw her at a club I'd probably try to get her into a one night stand at first sight. These were different circumstances.

She followed me as I navigated myself to the back of the studio. LJ was waiting for us when we got outside. When I opened the trunk to put the bags in LJ just stared, no courtesy or anything. Just staring. I shook my head, knowing that if I was at his age I would do the same thing.

**-LJ-**

"Looks like somebody's had a bad day." LJ pronounced wittily. Trying to keep his cool like RHB instructed.

"You're funny. I'm not the one playing driver while everybody else was shooting." The girl replied with a sneer.

"I'm the one being passed around by some needle dick Beach Head Queens." LJ quipped back making fun of his older friend's new enemy.

"Their needles were probably bigger than your pen tip." The girl replied back, LJ wasn't gonna let it rest there.

"Well pen tip won't be what your saying when it's too far down your throat." LJ said and before the girl could reply the crew had ran out, their arms filled with bags. They threw some of them in the trunk. The rest they jumped in with.

"Drive!" RHB yelled and as soon as he could hear police and fire department's wailing sirens on the other side of the studio that was now fully engulfed in flames they were going on the freeway.

**-SK- **

AS LJ drove on the freeway to the sounds of Three Six Mafia's - Doe Boy, a CD Regg insisted at gunpoint on playing, I couldn't stop but think how seeing the studio on fire screamed De Ja Vu. Good thing it wasn't me on the receiving side of the loss this time. We drove by the closest SubUrban clothing store and got the girl who ended up telling us her name was Pacci some clothes we had to pick out seeing as there was a shirt and shoe policy there. She was black mixed with chicana.

We decided to drop her off at her mom's house. She had to sneak back in but she texted LJ that she had gotten in whit her mom being none the wiser. LJ relayed the message to me and RHB. The funds would be split between the robbers equally. Pacci got 3,000 to keep her mouth shut and I got my share of 66,000.

LJ spent his money on a couple of cars with modifications like nitrous and a police detector along with his college funds. RHB used the money to release Mareen Boys new mixtape, _War with Us_. The mixtape sampled a lot of Three Six Mafia beats and that's something I didn't have any problem with, I can honestly say I enjoyed the celebratory mixtape, which featured Desarea who went under the artist name, Guicy G. "Guicy G" spent her money on hosting a rented mansion party, in which all attendants got wasted and baked. In the end some small North East Cresenta set started fighting at the party. It was an all out brawl, Sticky even got a few swings in. Shooting spilled out on the streets but it soon ended. Guicy G played no games. Regg spent it on dope; he hired Rod, Tank, and Shannon to help him sell it to El Linaje. Cruz thanked us and it restored a bit of their street power. Crack rock managed to do that with gangs. I spent my share on a little kickback with mostly Stick's college friends and Shannon's stoner buddies. Instead of ending in a shootout it ended in a high time orgy. I even got a chance to feel up on Shannon before she realized it was me and pushed me over to her equally attractive friend. After I sold the meth I got from the squatters I ended up having enough to just let it sit in a swiss banking account. I left 10 thousand in bills and spent a good bit of it shopping with LJ, who had a good sense of style himself, to restore my closet back to its former glory. Pacci spent it on the same thing, shopping with her girls at some North Harrolinian mall; she dragged LJ along as well. Work hard play hard, was how the waves of life went for our little crime family.

**Stelm: **_**Ok guys the end of a long as chapter, my longest thus far. This has been the first real heist. If you count the one with Tank's daughter then you can but this one was the most strategic. That flashback had to be cooler than the other ones right? I enjoyed writing that. Whew now time to go through some of the slang/parodies/innuendos.**_

_**For the character models I'd say RHB would look like Schoolboy Q, a rapper whose song "Blessed" ft. Kendrick Lamar I'd recommend. **__**Pacci would be resemble Katerina Graham who is in fact a mix between African and Brazilian descent. Regg would resemble Project Pat. LJ would be acted out by Jayden Smith. Mareen Kid is inspired by Soulja Boy. With more of a juicy J/Fredo Santana flow. Desarae is inspired by A Nicki Minaj before fame (you can look that up on Google; she looked a lot more natural). Her flow would be more like Angel Haze's and a modernized La Chat. DJ RHB would be an eye-patchless Slick Rick. Chief Duke from the GMF would resemble Big Meech.**_

_**The Vagos/V18 are a hispanic set made by Native Gunz 13 based in San Andreas. Check his story out, Cross Fire and our new collabo with Zane Longsharks; coming soon. Native Gunz 13 also has a new story called GTA Volition out now. Dankatella is a mixture I've actually been trying to make recently but like Shannon said its hard to make it potent. Its THC (the thing in the weed that gets you high) infused with nutella. You need a lot of dank and a lot of butter so it's hard. Plus you can't have just anybody use it up.**_

_**Cha Su Pon is a Korean criminal syndicate based off the Chil Sung Pa Kkangpae. They have seven stars for their seven founders. The spoof syndicate has fourteen. Pretty Girl is an off-shot of Ugly girl from Mi Vida Loca. The whole fight scene had some of the 100 deadliest moves in karate on it.**_

_**You can find the "smoke me I'm dope" crewneck from Karmaloop. aMAZzen is a spoof on Amazon. A company that just built a building out in Greenville, SC. A lot of controversy stems from the fact that Nikki Haley has forgotten about the small businesses that struggle so hard from day to Geechee Mafia Family/ Geechee Multimedia Family is are both spoofs on the black Mafia Family using Black Music Family instead of Mafia. So they could seem to be a legitimate organization. BTW the gullah festival is this weekend, sad I couldn't go but atleast I got this shit through with.**_

_**The Apple Pie from the south reference comes from my Grama's 50**__**th**__** birthday. This guy had brought a big jar of something red and I thought it was juice until my granddad made a reference to the TV show Moonshiners. Then I realized what was going on.**_

_**The Terrorist Coffee store comes right from a Mafia novel called Connected. The Naluba Riverside Goons are a spoof of the Saluda Riverside Goons in SC. Instead of throwin up pitchforks like Folk Nation they throw up and graffiti spades as the Kin nation signal.**_

_**The Beach Head Crowns are a spoof of the Hidden Valley Kings. They had their little cameo but they'll be no more. They don't show up a lot down in SC so I really won't consider them a real threat. El Linaje, Cruz's in decline gang will make a short reappearance later. They're kind of the under dogs in the hispanic gang category in SH.**_

_**DJ RHBs whole speech was inspired by the two speeches in The Education of Sonny Carson. The whole meth grabbing thing came from Sopranos: The Video Game. I mean that guy would just pick up anything worth anything and it'd tell you how much it cost.**_

_**Guicy G is a female spoof on Juicy J. It's also something a lot of people to do with their nicknames when they join a gang. A G is a goon and Naluba Goons would want to represent their set erryday all day.**_

_**The whole roof jumping scene was inspired by a parkour game called Vector. If you didn't realize it, that was the first heist of the fic. Well the most orderly heist. You'll see more like these in the future. **_

_**The title came from the Three Six Mafia Song "If you aint from my hood" Get the fuck from round here! **_

_**Read and review as always!**_


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